


No Rest For The Wicked

by naboojakku



Category: Maleficent (Disney Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Canon Compliant, Complete, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Curses, Falling In Love, Fantasy, Female Friendship, Found Family, Friendship/Love, Gentle Kissing, Happy Ending, Hurt Diaval, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Power Imbalance, Temporary Character Death, Unconventional Families, Worried Diaval, but it’s brief, canonverse, maleval, maybe ??? idk, poor Diaval lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25958800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboojakku/pseuds/naboojakku
Summary: In the wake of the death curse which threatens the royal infant's future, Maleficent struggles to maintain the peace within and around the Moors while the mad king does everything in his power to bring her down.Meanwhile, the great Mistress of Evil must contend with her tricky feelings for her pet raven, Diaval, and even the cursed Princess Aurora manages to carve a small place in her heart.But Maleficent has always been a villain. Is it possible for one such as her to find a happy ending?
Relationships: Aurora & Maleficent (Disney), Diaval/Maleficent (Disney)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 114





	1. Looks Like Retribution

**Author's Note:**

> **Originally posted on Fanfiction.net in 2014/2015! This is a new & improved version that I decided to upload here since I'm an unapologetic slut for Maleficent, and content of any kind is ridiculously lacking.**

The skies were dark today.

Maleficent cast a fleeting look over her shoulder as she strode through a slim opening in her Wall of Thorns. Branches and rocks tumbled out of her way, cleaving a smooth path that led straight into the thick and magical realm known simply as the Moors. All around her there lay an unnerving silence. No one and no thing dared even tremble in her presence for fear of waking her ever-present wrath.

Though at the present time, she was feeling quite satisfied with herself.

"Diaval," she called, glancing up at the overcast sky.

The raven was there a moment later, black wings fluttering restlessly in the air beside her. With a careless flick of her fingers, the raven became a human, and the human a man with silky black hair and eyes to match.

"Yes, mistress."

"Ah, there you are," she said, smiling wanly. "I wondered if you'd flown off in a huff, never to return."

"Of course not," he answered at once, though his eyes strayed sideways, glancing at her to decipher her mood. "Though you did cause quite a…"

"Spectacle?" Maleficent laughed, delighted. "Well, yes, that was my intention. The look on Stefan's face… Ah, I shall treasure it forever." Vivid green eyes flashing with mischief, she batted aside low-hanging tree limbs that didn't move quickly enough from her path, her magnificent staff pounding against the earth at every step.

"I'm sure he won't forget this. He's a vengeful man," Diaval said carefully, picking his way through thorns and tangled moss. The Moors' foliage didn't move out of the way for him like it did for his mistress.

"I see the truth in this," she admitted, gazing again at the dark sky. "But, nevertheless, the deed is done. His daughter's life is forfeit."

Diaval frowned as they crested a large hill, the one overlooking Maleficent's frightening tree-like home. "Aren't you worried the king will find a way to protect her? Or, better yet, find a young man who may bestow –"

"True love's kiss?" Maleficent interrupted, scoffing. "Diaval, my boy, there's no such thing." She paused atop the hill, her eyes absorbing the massive, twisted chair she'd deemed her throne. "Don't you see? That's why I chose this curse. There's no undoing it. She is destined to sleep until the stars fall from the sky and the earth shudders and breaks apart. She is destined to sleep forever and a day."

Diaval was more chilled than he'd like to admit, but still, he dutifully followed Maleficent down the hill and across the horrid-looking moat that surrounded her throne. Everything here was dark, so utterly and terrifyingly ominous, that even a raven tended to shy away. Maleficent usually sent him on tireless errands throughout both the Moors and the human kingdom, so he seldom spent any length of time here.

Maleficent herself was rarely near this area of the Moors, despite it being her only safe haven. For the past several years, she'd been intent on creating chaos and spreading it throughout King Stefan's kingdom. She would never give the king a moment's rest, Diaval knew, not until she herself was dead. That was the price he must pay for tearing the wings from her back.

"What do you think the king will do?"

Maleficent turned, her long black cloak swirling around her, and gracefully sat down on her throne. She still kept the staff in her left hand, unwilling to relinquish it even for a second. "About the curse?" she asked, pursing her lips. "Try to kill me, I imagine."

He shook his head and leaned against the trunk of a particularly large tree. "No, with his daughter."

Maleficent sighed. "She'll doubtless be sent away somewhere Stefan deems "safe," though he has to know that the girl will never escape my curse. It will find her, one way or the other."

Diaval nodded, watching his mistress's face carefully. "And if Stefan does try to hunt you down before the curse is enacted?"

Her brilliant emerald eyes flicked around the quiet forest before settling on his curious black ones. She smiled hugely, her white teeth glittering in the eternal gloom of the Moors.

"Why, that is impossible, Diaval dear. Stefan cannot hunt any _one_ or any _thing_. He does not have the hunting capability, poor thing. He is the prey, and I am the predator." She lovingly caressed the smooth black arm of her towering throne. "This is the way it has always been. This is the way it shall always be."

Diaval nodded and stepped back, succumbing to the gloomy night, and thought, _But what of your wings? He took them from you with such hideous force. This king is more dangerous than you think._

But he dared not speak these doubts aloud and instead stood by her side, a silent sentinel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **pls excuse any glaring grammar/pacing/characterization issues, I was in my teens when I wrote this and just Having A Good Time**


	2. In A State Of Unrest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates twice a week!✨**

Two years later and all was chaos.

Armed human soldiers patrolled the Wall of Thorns separating King Stefan's kingdom from the Moors. Catapults were spread every fifteen feet or so, with bonfires burning at all hours in between. The men wielded fire at every opportunity; Maleficent found the burning not so much irritating as tiresome. She had to constantly be on the look-out for more damage to the outer areas of the Moors, and she would spend tense minutes, sometimes tense _hours_ , repairing her carefully crafted defenses.

The Moors itself was as silent and dark as ever, but there was unrest among its residents; even Maleficent could sense it. The humans beyond the Wall of Thorns were persistent, though she knew that was due more in part to Stefan's all-consuming passion to wipe her out rather than the citizens' loyalty. The men themselves seemed tired and restless, and this alone told Maleficent much more than words ever could. Stefan's paranoia was wearing him and his kingdom down. It was only a matter of time until Stefan did something rash and exposed a weakness. Maleficent would patiently wait for that moment, and when it arrived, she would crash down upon his kingdom with all the vengeance of a thousand wronged fairies.

For now, however, she maintained her perch above the child princess's isolated house. The brick structure was very large but not well-kept. The three witless fairies fluttered about on light human feet, despite the absence of their wings. They leaped gracefully to and fro, preparing meals for the small babe and halfheartedly cleaning the brambles and mountains of leaves from the front yard. These were mindless tasks, but then, there wasn't much else to do besides watch over the king's daughter. 

Unfortunately, they were making a poor job of it. The little beastie would not shut its little yap.

The child screamed for hours on end and would not be calmed down by a warm bottle or peaceful nap. The soothing noises that the fairies made seemed only to incense the child, if anything.

"The hapless thing has no idea what to do," she sighed, her shoulders weighed down with fatigue.

"She's just a mere child, mistress," Diaval said quietly, watching the princess wave her tiny fists with rage.

Maleficent snorted. "I don't mean the babe, Diaval. The blue one – what's her name, Thimble? – flings herself about with not a single care for the child's screams. Is she hard of hearing?"

"I believe that one's name is Flittle, mistress, though I do agree. Are they turning a blind eye or do they simply not care?"

Maleficent hummed, pondering the situation. Not without some irritation, Diaval noticed, though he couldn't blame her. He'd scarcely gotten a lick of sleep since the child's endless crying jags began. He was beyond exhausted, but the deep circles beneath his mistress's eyes worried him more. There seemed to be something else worrying her, something besides the constant crying and the patrolling soldiers beyond the Wall of Thorns. He wished he knew what it was that caused her such deep apprehension. What hurt her hurt him as well.

Deciding to broach the subject, at his own peril, Diaval opened his mouth, but Maleficent suddenly raised a hand. He immediately knew what was coming, and cringed.

"For the love of all things, rock the brat's cradle, Diaval. I cannot take a moment more of those ear-splitting wails." She flicked her wrist at him. "Into a raven."

Diaval's stream of complex thinking shrunk to that of a simple animal. Squawking, he began to rise above the tree-tops when he heard Maleficent's voice from below.

"And bring her one of those pink amaryllis flowers from the nearest bog. She'll suck contentedly on that, I should think."

Diaval the raven crested over the trees and hills of the Moors, tilting his wings towards the ramshackle house of the three fairies. He would always do his mistress's bidding, no questions asked. Especially when such a task was as curious as this one. She seldom executed an act that did not benefit her in some way.

_Curious indeed._

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Maleficent sat on one side of a massive cliff, her cloak swirling out around her. Up here the sun shone brilliantly, and patches of pure white fluff mixed within the shimmering blue of the sky. The air was fresh and wholesome, enjoyable to her keen senses. The grass beneath her was soft and yielding, and a light breeze lifted the black tassels dangling from her neck. Her heart was unburdened so high up in the Moors, where no man could reach.

On the opposite side of the cliff, a young Aurora frolicked in the tall grass, shouting with glee. The three fairies who'd been charged with looking after her well-being were concentrated only on each other and their mindless tasks – sewing, was it? Maleficent sniffed disdainfully. _These three couldn't take care of a rock, much less a living thing,_ she thought, watching carefully as Aurora strayed further and further from the fairies.

"The child has already grown independent of them, wouldn't you say?" Diaval asked, suddenly appearing.

Maleficent turned to examine her closest follower. He had his arms crossed, and his long legs were also crossed loosely at the ankles as he leaned against the thick trunk of an oak tree. The long strands of his inky black hair were smoothed back from his pale, searching face, leaving his onyx eyes unhindered to gaze at her. She couldn't say precisely why, but those eyes of his had always made her distinctly uncomfortable. They knew far too much. She would never outright acknowledge this, of course; admitting that someone else possessed even an inkling of power over her was tantamount to admitting weakness, and that was not something Maleficent would ever willingly do.

"Don't confuse ignorance with independence, Diaval," she chided mildly. "The girl knows only what the fairies have taught her, and the fairies haven't taught her much of anything. So she roams freely, without a care in the world, while danger lurks." Maleficent sighed, world-weary.

A small smile threatened to spread across Diaval's lips. "You're awfully observant of this girl whom you claim to despise."

She shifted, narrowing her eyes. Aurora was blindly following a blue-black butterfly, and the two were moving ever closer to the steep edge of the cliff. "Someone has to be observant; it might as well be me. Those caretakers of hers aren't useful for anything but cooking and sewing heaps of hideous blankets."

Diaval nearly laughed aloud at his mistress's dramatic shudder. "Ah, but I bet you secretly covet one of those blankets, mistress. Your eyes tend to spark every time you catch sight of one."

"Spark with horror, perhaps," she muttered, stretching out her fingers. They'd become cramped from gripping her staff so tightly. Aurora was indeed very close to the edge of the cliff now, and the fairies had yet to realize she was missing.

Diaval had instantly taken note of Maleficent's growing alarm. He took a hesitant step forward. "You should stop her before she gets too close."

"I didn't realize your counsel was needed, Diaval."

He bowed his head. "Pardons, mistress, but it would be in your best interest. With no child there will no longer exist a curse."

She sighed again, though the muscles in her jaw were clenched. Aurora was nearly over the edge. "Yes, this is true. I shall need to stop her, or no one else will."

Aurora, eyes glued to the butterfly which spiraled out over the endless ravine below, scrambled forward, only to realize too late that her feet were pedaling air. She fell with a wordless shriek, but only several feet past the edge. A giant vine crafted from the spare brambles and leaves and pebbles littering the cliff's side wrapped around the little princess's waist and lifted her up and up and up, setting her back on her tiny feet. Aurora glanced behind her, paused temporarily with a head tilt that conveyed curiosity, but the vine had already vanished. She blinked twice, then turned and fled back into the tall grass, off to chase another unfortunate insect.

"Well done, mistress," Diaval said softly.

Maleficent merely pursed her lips. "I need no praise from you, Diaval. Into a raven."

Black wings sprouted in place of arms, and a beak protruded where there once was a mouth, and Maleficent could not have been any more relieved.


	3. A Gradual Encroachment

Tensions between King Stefan's minions and Maleficent were mounting, and her constant unease made her unable to stomach food. 

She could not eat the trolls' radish stew or the delicious, fleshy flowers of the meadowlands or even the tall purple stalks of berrywood that she so dearly loved. Despite her growing weakness, the power within her never waned for a second; in fact, it seemed to increase each and every day, manifesting so quickly that Maleficent wasn't sure she could contain it for much longer without expelling controlled bursts. However, her pale skin grew paler, and the already thin bones in her face became even more prominent.

One afternoon, while she was running her hand through vibrant grass smooth as silk, her vision blurred, casting double images into the sky, and the colors of the trees and plants all mixed together into a kaleidoscopic haze. She blinked rapidly, her back suddenly rigid as she tried to rid herself of this sudden sickness. It took several moments, but her vision soon cleared, and her shoulders relaxed, and Maleficent's burning green gaze returned to Aurora, who was picking a large bouquet of mismatched flowers two fields over.

Fifteen minutes later and it happened again.

"Why, what a curious little sensation!" she exclaimed with false amusement. Diaval was in raven form, perched above her in a tree with few limbs, and she didn't want to arouse his suspicions. She could see his furry little head tilt to the side, but that was all.

"I'd rather not experience _that_ again," she muttered, knowing intuitively that the double vision and the sudden kaleidoscope of colors were both signs of her desperate hunger.

Her stomach would rumble on occasion, but she herself did not actually experience any pain or discomfort. She knew she was hungry, but she did not _feel_ it. Diaval surely had noticed the tautness of her skin, but he couldn't be ware that she had ceased eating entirely, and for almost a fortnight. She intended to keep it that way; if truth be told, she really did not think much of her lack of appetite. It was merely a symptom of her unavoidable stress.

"Diaval, dear," she called, inexplicably listless. The raven immediately flew down from its perch, landing on a large rock in front of her. "Would you check for lily pads down by the northernmost pond? The sky looks ominous today, and I fear a dreadful storm will soon be upon us." Using magic, she usually prepared for an approaching storm by lifting three or four giant lily pads above her throne to shield her and her servant from rainwater…on the rare occasions when it actually did storm, of course. These days, the storms seemed to be _on_ the ground rather than above it.

The raven dipped its head and took flight. Maleficent watched the bird disappear from sight before rising slowly to her feet. She'd sent her faithful follower on a needless task; she did not require lily pads, at least not today. Rainwater was the least of her worries.

"What a bother this is turning out to be," she huffed, walking stiffly through the trees. She leaned heavily on her staff, more so than normal. The pain in her stomach was bordering on extremely unpleasant, and Maleficent did not want Diaval around if something were to happen. She was positive that he would look down on her for this weakness.

"Of all the unnecessary ailments…" she continued, annoyed. Striding across the field beside Aurora's, the fairy settled her gaze on the child's blonde head.

She was a chubby-faced little thing, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes that spoke of future trouble. The princess was indeed turning out to be a beauty, unlike her father in his youth. Stefan had been pale and ungainly, but most of all uncertain about his place in life. Aurora seemed to already know herself and everything around her; in fact, the child reminded Maleficent of herself when she was a young girl. Always curious, always wandering about, touching things and yearning to know why _this_ was and where _that_ went.

Maleficent shook off these troublesome thoughts when Aurora turned to gallop away, the bouquet of flowers waving about in one tightly clenched fist. Her staff hammered the ground, the vibrations sending terrible thuds through her own head. She felt old – old, slow, and so very, very weary. This was unlike her usual mood, and her current state would've worried her if only she had the capacity to worry. But alas, there were other concerns of much greater importance that demanded her attention. 

Half a mile later, she faltered in step, the staff in her hand wavering against the ground. She was unbalanced and a tad confused. But she could not fall apart here; there were still many leagues back to her throne, and it would not do to be out in the open once the storms descended on the Moors.

Maleficent chanced another step forward…and fell.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"This is not a good place to sleep."

The little voice penetrated the darkness surrounding Maleficent, and she swam back to herself, grasping at consciousness. Through luck – or maybe something else – she managed to open her eyes and blink at the graying sky. It was an hour or two past sunset; the sky itself could hardly be seen through the thick layer of clouds fat with rainwater.

Her whole body ached, and she found it difficult to speak. "Where am I?"

"The meadowlands, of course," said the little voice cheerfully.

When Maleficent did not respond right away, a little finger that doubtless belonged to the little voice poked her shoulder. If there was one thing Maleficent despised above all else, it was being touched without consent.

"What?" she snapped peevishly. "What is it, what do you want?"

The little voice paused before answering. "I want to know what you're doing out here. It's going to rain."

"I can see that," she grumbled, her eyes growing heavy once more.

"No!" the little voice exclaimed. "You must go home."

"I have no home."

This seemed to throw the little voice off. When it spoke next, it sounded unsure. "Surely you have somewhere to rest?"

"Surely I do not."

A pair of watery blue eyes set in an angelic face peeped into view, blocking out the overcast sky. "Why, _everyone_ has a home," Aurora exclaimed, nonplussed. "You must go at once."

"I must do as I decide, and no more," Maleficent responded, staring intently at the princess's face. She had never dared come so close to the girl. This new perspective was odd but enlightening…and somewhat scary as well. She did not like this fear, not one bit. 

"Knotgrass would say you're very stubborn," the girl informed her. 

"Knotgrass would be correct in that assumption."

Aurora giggled as if she'd said something amusing. "Who are you? I am Aurora," she continued matter-of-factly, "and I live in a large house with my three aunts."

"Yes, ah, that's all very well and good, but I must –" Halfway through the thought, Maleficent blanked.

Aurora gazed at her innocently. "It's going to rain," she said again.

"Yes," Maleficent agreed, suddenly confused.

"I have to be getting back now. Knotgrass will yell if they have to come search for me, and Flittle will make bread but none of the good pieces will be left if I'm late." With that bit of information, very important to a guileless child, Aurora was off, leaping over non-existent obstacles and batting aside tall weeds that threatened to break her stride.

 _What a curious little creature,_ Maleficent thought vaguely.

She did not wake again for three days.


	4. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **the POV shifts back and forth between Diaval and Maleficent this chap!**

"I am frightened for her," he whispered, and the sound of this familiar voice stirred something within the fairy queen. An emotion bubbled from deep inside her chest and threatened to burst. She forced it back down. 

Maleficent shifted, her back tingling, as she searched for him. Though she could not see nor touch nor even sense him, she searched.

"Why did she not tell me of her affliction? She has to know I would have done everything in my power to help her, to make her better again. I do not understand…" Diaval trailed off, unable to keep speaking his thoughts aloud. Everything within him ached. He had been despairing for nearly three days, overcome with panic and a restlessness he had never experienced before in all his long years.

Diaval had located the requested lily pads within a few hours, and he had called to his mistress within his mind. This was the normal way of things. For an hour more he had patiently waited, assuming she would respond to him in her own time. But a response did not come, and Diaval had grown irritated. He'd flown swiftly back to her throne and the moat surrounding it, sweeping over the tree-tops with a fierceness that surprised even him.

Maleficent sent him to do her bidding all the time, but she seemed less appreciative of late. He knew that the war waging between his mistress and the king of the humans had been taking a toll on her, but that was no reason to treat her most faithful servant so poorly. Of course, he owed her his life; Diaval would never forget that. But that did not warrant disrespect on her part.

Just once he would like to see her acknowledge his devotion. Not just as a servant, either. 

However, Maleficent had not been sitting on her throne, nor had any of the creatures which lived and thrived within the Moors seen her since early that morning. Diaval had seethed, and he'd assumed his mistress wanted to make him angry by failing to appear—sometimes it amused her to keep her position secret from him. He had waited until the next afternoon for her to return, but return she had not, even when it began to rain.

He grew worried then. Calling out wordlessly in his mind, Diaval had waited and waited and waited for a response, but none had come. Almost a full day had passed since he'd heard from his mistress last, and so he finally decided to go out and scan the Moors. His rage forgotten, he searched for Maleficent for nigh on six hours.

It was well past nightfall when he found her in the meadowlands.

She was limp and unresponsive, her skin so cold he had trouble touching her without hissing. When he did, though, Diaval inexplicably transformed back into a human. He'd blinked, astonished, and stared at his mistress with an expression bordering on horror. 

She'd fallen on her stomach, and her arms were flung away from her body. The magnificent staff she had created to assist her in walking had rolled a dozen feet away, and it sat half-buried in mud from which tall weeds sprouted. The rainwater had not ceased since Diaval began the hunt for his mistress, and so her cloaks were soaked through, her face splattered with more mud.

Calling upon the creatures that lived within the moat surrounding Maleficent's throne, Diaval had helped carry his beloved fairy back to her home, where a large tent made of his collected lily pads awaited. Elephant-like trolls and other woodland creatures tromped to and fro, strengthening the tent, making a soft bed of leaves and flowers that Maleficent may lie on comfortably, and which kept the elements at bay: the rain was drained away, the winds halted, and the large chunks of hail redirected. Afraid of her though they were, the creatures would still do anything to keep their fairy queen safe, Diaval most of all.

He fretted for hours on end and dared not sleep a wink while Maleficent lay vulnerable. Though he was ever grateful for the help given to him by the creatures of the Moors, he would not permit any of them to touch her, or even so much as draw close. He watched over her protectively, straightening her cloak, smoothing out the leaves that made up her bed, sheltering the staff she rarely relinquished hold of so that it would not be damaged by the storm. The blustering winds and soaking rain and booms of thunder raged on for two more days while Diaval worried relentlessly, and Maleficent slept without so much as a twitch of the eye to show that she could still be counted among the living.

"I see very clearly that this is my fault," Diaval said now, swamped with guilt. "I should have realized something was amiss. She hasn't been eating very well or very often, and she seldom speaks about her state of mind. The war with King Stefan is always on her mind, taxing her strength, distracting her thoughts, garnering all her attention… And I call myself her most loyal servant!"

She could almost find him…so close was his voice, yet so weak her body and so empty her resolve. In truth, Maleficent wanted nothing more than to sleep. She was aware that she had been sleeping for quite a while, and that it would not do to sleep for much longer without dire consequences, and yet she desired the blissful silence of sleep more than anything. If only she could locate that voice, draw it close to her chest, hug it tightly against her body…

"What if she does not wake?" Diaval wondered softly, horror-struck. "What if she does not return to me? I won't live without her," he decided abruptly. "Our lives are too intertwined, you see—one cannot be without the other."

 _He sounds so forlorn,_ she thought tiredly. _So terribly, terribly forlorn._

Then she felt a hand on her forehead, and a soft breath feathering her cheek. The warmth of another human body seeped through the coldness and surrounded her, and all at once she was encompassed by a heat so intense she thought she might burst.

The voice again, low and worried. "You must wake soon, mistress. You have us all worried, the water fairies and the trolls and even the tree warriors. Come back to the Moors, my queen."

_But I am so tired. So terribly, terribly tired._

"I fear we will all be vanquished soon if you perish, mistress. There are rumors of the king's intent, and those rumors say that his new weapon is iron and steel and all manner of harmful metals. Please," he whispered, "please…"

 _Does he speak so frightfully of Stefan? But the king has inched nearer every day—why does the presence of a few metals make any difference?_ She sighed inwardly. _This endless war and that damnable child. How will any of us prosper?_

"…Maleficent…"

It was her name on his tongue…and like magic, her voice filled the air.

"Begging does not get you anywhere, Diaval," she said hoarsely, her eyes flashing wide open. "In fact, it makes for an unattractive means of negotiation."

The relief she saw in Diaval's eyes was vast, but she could scarcely recognize the emotion, for the beating of her heart overrode everything. _Maleficent,_ he'd whispered, and she had woken.

Like magic, indeed.

"M-mistress," he stammered, eyes and voice swelling with delight. "At last, you have woken!”

"Indeed," she said drily, "and if you wouldn't mind taking a step or two away…" She gestured for him to give her some space. The time for resting was over.

"Of course, of course, my apologies," he said, tripping over his own two feet in his haste to give her room.

Maleficent sat upright, the bones in her back and neck cracking. She stretched out the kinks in her arms and legs, sighing with relief. Now that she was up and moving again, she felt rejuvenated. "Pray tell, how long was I asleep?" she asked mildly.

"Three days, mistress," Diaval said at once, drinking her in.

"I see," she said, frowning. "And what, may I ask, am I sitting in?"

"Oh, yes!" he exclaimed, wringing his hands. "You requested those lily pads as shelter against the coming storms, which was an admirable foresight as it's been raining for two days straight, and, well, you see—"

"You thought to use them as walls for a bedchamber instead." Despite her inflectionless tone, she was impressed.

"Correct," he said, pressing his lips together anxiously.

"You need not worry, Diaval," she said with a wry smile. "You've done well."

His shoulders sagged with relief. "I'm glad you think so, mistress."

Maleficent noticed that her cloak had been washed and now rested delicately around her shoulders. Her skin was clean and unblemished, and her staff was leaning against the lily pad wall in the far corner. It did not appear to be damaged.

Struggling to her feet, Maleficent said brusquely, "Well, I imagine Aurora has gotten into quite a bit of mischief in the time I've been away—" Her voice cut out when Diaval swiftly reached out to steady her, holding her elbow firmly.

She blinked up at him but could not find any words.

Diaval realized at once what he'd done wrong, and he ripped his hand away, flinging it aside as if he had branded her skin. "I'm so—Mistress, I don't know what possessed me—Forgive me, please, I meant no—"

Maleficent chuckled, her heart beating unevenly. "Don't hurt yourself, Diaval. You've not committed a crime. In fact…" This time, she reached out and ever-so-lightly grabbed his elbow. "I do need a bit of steadying," she admitted sheepishly.

All the breath seemed to escape from Diaval's chest. "Of course, of course," he said again, drawing Maleficent to his side. In truth, there hardly seemed to be any weight to her at all. She was rail-thin, as light and airy as an amaryllis flower, even wearing her heavy black cloak.

"My staff," she requested, and Diaval moved the two of them several steps into the tent before the wooden walking stick came into reach. They grabbed for the rounded pommel at the same time.

"Oh, my apologies," he stammered, immediately retracting his hand.

A secret smile played across Maleficent's blood-red lips. "It's quite all right, Diaval. And please, for my sake, don't go apologizing at every turn. It's tiresome to hear."

He bobbed his head, his eyes roving over her face questioningly. _Something's changed,_ he thought, perplexed. _But what? She seems more at ease, and yet nothing much has changed._

Maleficent herself wasn't quite sure, but she knew that all would be revealed in due time. That was how the world worked. Ask for answers, and you would not get them. Wait for them instead, and you shall receive in due course. 

"Has it stopped raining yet?"

"Yes, within the hour, in fact."

"Then I wish to sit by the stream, so long as it has not flooded," she said, raising her chin defiantly. She wasn't sure precisely why, but she felt that her loyal servant would protest against this plan.

Sure enough, a flash of doubt glimmered the depths of his black eyes and was gone again an instant later. "Ah...Mistress, if that's truly what you wish—"

"It is so," she interrupted firmly. She would not be treated like an invalid.

Diaval began to move aside to let his mistress pass, but when he noticed how tightly she gripped her staff, and how she seemed to eye the opening of the tent with mistrust and maybe a hint of doubt, he decided against leaving her. Never again would he stray for so long from her side.

"Here you are, mistress," he said simply, and extended his arm once more. She took it wordlessly, and together they exited the lily pad tent.

The air was scented with the smell of jade and berrywood stalks, and the trees bristled wetly with fresh rainwater. Everything seemed a bit more alive now that the storm had passed; the surrounding forest appeared clean and welcoming. Maleficent pursed her lips thoughtfully; the Moors hadn't been like this since she was a small child.

"I shall sit over there," she decreed, pointing her staff at an elevated area of rock that overhung the stream.

This particular body of water—as there were many that could be found throughout the Moors—was only a dozen or so feet from the small moat surrounding her throne, but it was much bigger and deeper. It stretched five feet across and wound all the way down to the meadowlands and beyond. Some said the bottom was more than fifty feet below the surface, but Maleficent had seen no proof as yet. The stream also presented a much prettier picture, surrounded by flowers as it was, whereas the moat was gloomy and covered with an indefinable film.

"As you wish," Diaval repeated, and escorted her one step at a time over to the stream.


	5. On The Banks Of Symphony Stream

It was a beautiful day to be resurrected. 

Maleficent tilted her chin to the sky, basking in the day's unnatural warmth. Birds fluttered around her, sapphire-bright blue jays and plum-headed lovebirds and violet-necked lorikeets which filled the air with their cheerful birdsong.

"I dare say, the air seems fresher than I remember," she exclaimed, breathing deeply through her nose. Hands lying limp in her lap, Maleficent gazed calmly at the stream. She was able to breathe easier now, and her stomach and chest didn't hurt so horribly. Everything seemed much clearer than before, when colors mixed and her thoughts betrayed nothing but confusion.

"Very fresh," Diaval remarked tonelessly.

"What's wrong, my pretty bird? I sense there's something off with you, ever since I awakened." Maleficent frowned down at her raven-haired servant, concerned. He'd seemed slightly off-kilter while she prattled on about inconsequential things, and that alone was a sign that something was wrong. Diaval was usually the one who babbled without pause about trivialities. He did so love to talk. 

He shifted uncomfortably. "Nothing's wrong, mistress." Yet his actions said otherwise.

"Now, now, don't play coy with me, Diaval. Tell me what's bothering you."

There was no denying her when she used that tone of voice. "I was very concerned for you, mistress," he said slowly. "You were dead to the world for quite some time."

 _Dead to the world._ What phrasing! Maleficent waved a dismissive hand. "Bah, that's nothing. I was merely succumbing to some well-needed sleep. Besides, there's no longer any need to worry, you see. I'm awake now and feeling back to my old self…which should frighten you, my bird."

Diaval ignored the jest. "The creatures of the Moors were afraid you would never wake."

"Ridiculous," she scoffed, trailing a hand through the water. "As I said, it was nothing so ominous. Now, let us talk of something else. All this babble about sleeping is boring me, dreadfully so." Her chest rose and fell with a deep sigh. "What has the little princess been up to these days? She hasn't fallen off a cliff or choked on a berrywood stalk since I've been gone, has she? Those fairies are frightfully unreliable, you know."

Diaval tilted his head, considering her. "Mistress, if I may…"

"Of course, speak your mind."

"Why did you refuse to eat?" he blurted, voice rough.

Maleficent blinked. "Why, what do you mean?"

"Don't be coy," he said sharply, forgetting himself. "You know exactly what I mean. Why would you hurt yourself like that?"

Maleficent closed her eyes for a brief moment. "It was not something I chose to do, Diaval. I fear the stress of Stefan's war caused a...lack of hunger in me. An unfortunate side effect." She paused, avoiding his eyes. "It is not a topic I wish to discuss further."

"Because you think it makes you weak." He nodded, starting to understand. "That's why you did not say anything, despite the paleness in your cheeks and the limpness of your hands." He sniffed and muttered, "You think I did not notice, when I always notice." 

Maleficent clenched her teeth. "I said, I do not wish to-–"

Diaval raised his hands and lowered his eyes. "Yes, yes, my apologies." He jumped off a small rock which hovered over the stream and sat gracefully by her side. "Am I not given leave to worry, mistress?"

It was all she could do to prevent an eye-roll. "You may feel whatever you may feel, my pet. But I tell you with the utmost sincerity that this lapse in strength will not happen again. It was a moment of pure weakness, and--" She had a tough time admitting that last part, yet she had to finish. "I will be better prepared next time."

"Ah, well," Diaval said, surprised that his fearless leader would admit such a thing. Still, she was so hopelessly independent. If only she would lean on him from time to time. "We shall hope there won't be a next time."

"There always is," she muttered darkly. There was a long, suffocating pause, and then she asked, out of the blue, "Is there a name to this stream?"

"Indeed," he said, cocking his head. He would allow the subject change. "The woodland tree animals call it Symphony Stream."

"How quaint," she said dryly, eyeing the stream and the small creatures that burrowed into the sand on the muddy banks.

"Oh, come off it," Diaval chided, a smile gracing his lips. "It provides a wonderful view from your throne."

"It does," she acknowledged, frowning. He seemed a bit too cheerful with the change in topic. "Tell me, what's made you so happy?"

He pressed his lips together and looked away, abashed. "You're awake now, and back to your old self, as you said. But you don't frighten me, mistress, not anymore. I like hearing your voice," he added, staring intently into the stream.

Her chest tightened for an instant, and Maleficent rubbed the spot absentmindedly. "Well, that's something new," she said ponderously, "and I'm not sure I like it."

Diaval paled. "Oh, I-–"

"You misunderstand. Your speech is so blunt, and I'm unused to such directness from you."

He tried to keep his smile at bay and failed. "I do hope it's not offensive to you, mistress. That's not my intention. However, I must admit, it's…nice to express myself with such openness."

"Indeed it is," she said softly, observing the way he preened in the sun's warm rays, his inky hair tossed out of his face, strong hands gripping the surface of the rock, long legs clad in black pants stretched out beside her own. There was something about him, she knew, something wholesome and familiar, as if she could look at him and see a part of herself. This feeling had been growing for some time, but she had yet to put a name to it. 

"Now," she said sternly, shaking off these thoughts, "speak to me of Aurora. What has the little beastie gotten into these past three days?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Diaval's eyes sparkled intently, his voice ominous.

She sighed and smiled a little. "Why, of course. With those bumbling fairies doing such a poor job of looking after her, there's no limit to what could go wrong when I'm not there to oversee her well-being!"

"Well, then, I warn you, mistress, you won't like what I have to say." Even so, there was a mischievous smile on his lips, and Maleficent could not help but laugh. Diaval watched her silently, marveling at the tinkling quality of her voice and the way her bold green eyes flashed with amusement.

"There are many stories," he added solemnly.

"And doubtless many more to come," Maleficent said, and when she glanced at him with her eyebrows raised, he smiled again and began to tell of Princess Aurora's adventures.

They sat for hours, and for a time they were content.


	6. The Time Is Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **last time jump!**

** Thirteen Years Later **

King Stefan's kingdom was abuzz with the making of swords, spear tips, scabbards, catapults, ringmail and all manner of weaponry known to exist within the world of humans. 

Each and every inch of the king's war arsenal consisted entirely of iron. The shiny silver metal casted rays of refracted light throughout the human world as well as within the Moors, where fairies, trolls and other magical creatures shaded their eyes and hid fearfully in their homes. The construction on the other side of Maleficent's Wall of Thorns had been going on for years and years by this point, and now it seemed that King Stefan was finally in possession of a weapons cache like no other.

The king himself, however, resembled a beggar; he had distant, shadowed eyes, deep wrinkles lining his forehead, a puckered mouth that never wavered from its continual frown or grimace, scraggly gray hair that was as wild as the remotest parts of the Moors, and a beard that hung nearly mid-chest. He'd grown twitchy and anxious in the years following Maleficent's curse, and paranoia shone day and night in his wide, unblinking eyes.

Meanwhile, behind the Wall of Thorns and within the magical realm known as the Moors, Maleficent grew stronger and wiser. Her green energy sometimes took on a life of its own, and she could nearly walk without assistance from her ever-present staff. However, she still tended to keep it by her side, as it seemed to display some magical properties of its own, the least of which was casting an intimidating presence to those who would defy her. 

Her body grew lean and resilient, her mind sharper, and her eyes ever more green. They were a striking emerald, flashing with anger or excitement, curiosity or annoyance, depending on her mood. With Maleficent's growing power, the realm flourished as well; the trees stretched as tall as mountains, flowers bloomed in rows upon rows that covered miles of fields, and the creatures that inhabited the Moors thrived, surrounded as they were by succulent foods and beautiful lands.

Diaval had also toughened; he was an inch or two taller, with broad, powerful shoulders and arms and legs corded with strength. His inky hair was cut short and swept back from his forehead, as he knew Maleficent preferred. There was a keen intelligence hidden within his onyx eyes, an intrinsic knowing that had formed while he spent most of a decade by Maleficent's side. He had also grown more in-tune with Maleficent and her moods; whenever she felt something, he did too. Whenever she dashed one way, he was beside her an instant later. They moved as one, and sometimes their thoughts tangled.

Exactly thirteen years after that day by Symphony Stream, Diaval watched his mistress on this peaceful, sunny afternoon with brand new eyes. He had given up trying to ignore the intimate feelings that stirred within him at the sight of her. 

"She grows ever more beautiful," Maleficent said curiously, gazing after the princess who tumbled about in colorful piles of fallen leaves. 

She was only a fortnight from her sixteenth name day, and her luscious blonde hair fell in waves to her small waist. Blue eyes as soft-looking as the petals of the indigo chrysanthemums which grew in the far meadowlands stared out at the world, reveling in all its earthy glory. The girl was flawlessly pale and slight of build, and her smiles were radiant.

Maleficent still wasn't sure if she found the little beastie tolerable or not, though she did think Aurora was exceptionally intriguing, at the very least.

"She grows pretty as a sunflower," Diaval agreed, eyeing the princess with indifference. She was a beautiful young maid, sure, and although he had lived for too many years already, he still resembled a man of no more than thirty. However, she was not whom he envisioned spending the rest of his life with…as cliché as he knew that seemed. What was a soulmate, a life partner, to one like him? 

Maleficent chanced a quick glance his way. "If she had resided within Stefan's castle, he would be looking for suitors by now."

Diaval dipped his head in acknowledgement. "That is true."

She hummed in the back of her throat, contemplating. "She seems to have a sharp mind as well. Not that those fairies had anything to do with it."

A smile flitted across his lips. "Of course not. It was all your doing, my queen."

She furrowed her brow, sensing an undercurrent to his words. "I would warn you not to mock me, Diaval."

With a swirl of her signature black cloak, Maleficent strode away, her black mood hovering like a storm cloud. She'd noticed of late that her faithful follower had started to pay closer attention to the princess, and she wasn't at all sure how she felt about that. Surely she was not _jealous_ of his wandering eyes; with no females other than herself in sight, it was a wonder he hadn't already stolen away to the human kingdom to marry or breed some buxom wench. The thought of it made her ache, and she suppressed the image of Diaval with an arm around some smiling stranger's waist. 

Although unbreakable ties had formed during their time together, Maleficent knew well that she was not the most amiable of company. She was moody and stubborn and did not take well to unsolicited advice. But she _had_ been lenient in some respects; she had forbade him call her mistress or any other ludicrous titles, so long as she agreed to use his true name instead of calling him a "pretty bird" or an "insufferable winged beast." 

In her mind, these were gestures of friendship.

In truth, she could not blame him for his wandering eyes, although she also could not deny that something within her shriveled when she caught him doing so. They were both quite old, although Diaval appeared as a man of thirty and herself as no more than thirty-five. To the rest of the world, they were still of an age for courtship. 

_Courtship._ Maleficent snorted. 

"Aurora," she called out, her voice breaking the tranquil silence of the meadowlands. This was where they usually met, since her house with the fairies sat just beyond the tall, golden stalks which covered the earth for miles.

"Godmother!" replied an excited voice. Aurora raced into view, her blonde hair flying out behind her. She wore a light green dress with white lace, and her skin was flushed from all the activity. She made a pretty picture--breathtaking, really.

Maleficent hoped her raven stayed away.

"I was wondering when you'd come!" The princess bounded around Maleficent, swinging her arms and twirling the hem of her dress.

"Stop that at once," she demanded with mock severity. "You'll give me a headache with all that foolish spinning."

Aurora giggled. "But I do it so well!"

Maleficent rolled her eyes, though there was a small smile on her lips.

"Where's Diaval?" the princess asked, eyes wide and imploring.

Something tightened in her chest. "He's likely probing the forest floor for worms, my dear. Ravens enjoy that sort of thing."

"He's always by your side," Aurora said, pouting, "and he's wildly entertaining." Something must have flashed across Maleficent's face because she added, "Don't you agree?"

The fairy queen forced a smile. "Of course. But he's busy now. Don't worry, there will be plenty of opportunities for you two to play together." Even saying so made Maleficent ache. She hated to acknowledge that her precious servant preferred the company of this girl over her. She couldn't expressly say _why_ this bothered her, but it did. That uncertainty vexed her more than anything.

"What shall we do today?" Aurora asked, jumping around excitedly.

Maleficent couldn't care less as long as the activity was safe and within her sight, but she stopped a moment and pretended to consider their options. "Well, there's always Symphony Stream. The air's sticky with heat today."

Aurora shook her head impatiently. "No, no, we've already done that _twice_ this week." She sighed, gazing up at the sky. "Why don't we venture through the Tangible Forest? I'm sure the trees will provide sufficient cover, and we can explore!" The mere prospect made her eyes light up with anticipation.

"If you wish," Maleficent said agreeably. Anything to divert her attention away from Diaval. Pounding her staff against earth made brittle by the heat, she gestured for the princess to lead the way, and lead she did.

Breathing in the humid air, the fairy queen allowed the little princess to stray only a dozen or so yards ahead; she would not chance them being separated by some hungry creature or one of the many winding paths. The Tangible Forest was known for leading unsuspecting travelers astray. Aurora was too precious to go unsupervised for long.

Wiping beaded sweat from her forehead, Maleficent huffed and moved uncomfortably beneath her thick black cloak. The material was heavy, and humans within the king's realm had been known to whisper that the cloak was so filled with shadows that it actually absorbed the sun's rays and smothered all light. Maleficent did nothing to discourage these wild fabrications.

"Oh!" Aurora exclaimed, and Maleficent's eyes instantly lit upon the girl. She was examining a small pink flower with obvious pleasure. "What's this called, Godmother?"

"It is an amaryllis flower. You played with them quite a lot when you were younger," she explained, the sturdy, dark pink flower bringing back many memories featuring Aurora at play. She would tuck them behind her ears and intertwine the stems to make messy bracelets while frolicking amongst the less flattering weeds and damp foliage.

"I like it," she decided, and plucked the flower gently from where it was rooted to the earth. "Maybe I can start my own little flower garden back at home. Wouldn't that be splendid?"

Maleficent knew that the garden would only survive so long as the princess's attention remained fixed on it; she tended to spend all her time on one discovery only to abandon it within a fortnight when she made another discovery that seemed more enticing. The fairies would never try to keep the garden going by themselves; they were too self-absorbed. But Maleficent also knew what Aurora wanted to hear, and so she said, "I think it's a grand idea. In a few days' time, your garden will be the most magnificent collection of flowers within all of the Moors."

Aurora smiled widely with glee. "That's very kind of you to say, Godmother. It'll be the most pleasurable place in all of the Moors...and beyond!"

 _I wouldn't count on "beyond,"_ Maleficent thought with a small frown.

"And these?" the princess asked, gesturing to a large group of brilliant yellow flowers.

"Sunflowers, my dear," Maleficent said, humoring her.

"They do remind me of the sun," Aurora said softly, eyes large and bright. "I shall take them all!"

"Best leave some for the forest creatures' enjoyment, Aurora. You wouldn't want to deprive them of such beauty." Saying this made her feel unaccountably sad. The Moors had flourished plenty over the years, that was true enough, and yet Maleficent couldn't help but feel as if there was a sort of beauty missing in the land…a beauty taken away from them by the humans and their metal weapons, relentlessly poking and prodding at her Wall of Thorns in an attempt to find a way into her homeland.

"And this?" Aurora asked, pointing impatiently at a single red rose dripping with dew.

"Why, that's a-–" Maleficent broke off, suddenly tense.

The princess cocked her head, confused. "Is something wrong, Godmother?"

The fairy queen raised a hand, motioning for silence. She could have sworn there had been a noise--a soft crackling of leaves beneath a boot, signaling a stealthy approach. There was a tightness in her chest, and this usually signified that something was amiss. 

Distracted by Aurora and her silly, simplistic amusements, Maleficent hadn't been paying apt attention to their surroundings. She could've sworn she'd seen that tree before, the one that now seemed to have missing bark halfway up the trunk…and that muddy mound of dirt and choked weeds seemed to grow simultaneously larger and wetter the longer she gazed at it…and didn't it seem a bit foggier in this area of the forest than where they'd been previously?

With dread in her heart, Maleficent moved around a dense copse of trees and stopped short, the knuckles on her left hand whitening as she gripped her staff with bone-crushing pressure.

"My Wall of Thorns," she whispered, her pulse hammering at the base of her throat.

She looked to the left and then to the right, and almost couldn't comprehend what she saw before her; the interwoven vines and branches that made up her Wall were on fire. There were at least three or four spots just within her sight that were blazing with purple and white flames. The sight itself was totally unfamiliar to Maleficent, and that was how she knew that this must be the work of some new weapon created solely to destroy the barrier.

"Godmother?" Aurora said from behind her, sounding curious but not afraid. "What's going on? Is there something-–" She came running out of the forest and nearly fell over in her haste to stop before stumbling into the thorns. "Oh!" she gasped, blinking with astonishment.

"Back," she whispered, and then louder, " _Back_ , Aurora, you must get back!"

The alarm in her voice made Aurora stumble out of the way, but she remained within sight of the Wall. "What's happening?" she asked shrilly, eyes alighting on the white and purple flames. "Why does the fire look so peculiar?"

"Never mind that," Maleficent said hastily, keeping one eye on the girl and the other on her precious Wall. "We must be going now, you especially. We never should have strayed this far. That was my mistake." Grabbing the princess tightly by the arm, she added, "It is not safe here."

Aurora's eyes did not move from the Wall. "But what is-–"

" _It is not safe here!_ " Maleficent roared, her fear and apprehension pouring out in an angry explosion. Through clenched teeth, she added, "Come, let's-–"

Maleficent broke off. There was a whooshing noise, growing ever closer, and she knew that could only mean one thing. A heartbeat later there was an enormous eruption, and then a wave of heat washed over the two women. Aurora gasped loudly, her skin rippling in the heat, and Maleficent swiftly moved to cover her with her own body, drawing her large cloak around them. She could hear the vines and branches of the Wall crackling and burning away; whatever new sorcery the king was using to try and penetrate her barrier seemed to be working. Black smoke filled the air and shut out what little sunlight still shone through the gloom.

Faintly, Maleficent could hear Aurora choking, gasping for a breath of fresh air. The heat pouring over them ceased, but she knew it would only be minutes, maybe seconds, before a new blast hit them. Unwilling to succumb to the panic bubbling within her, Maleficent began moving further away from the Wall of Thorns, half carrying Aurora. She knew what she must do next, should another wave of fire arrive, but with the princess in her care, she dare not divert her attention even for a second.

Overhead, a raven cawed and swooped down low over their heads. Maleficent's lips twitched up with relief, and she shouted, "Into a man!"

Diaval dropped gracefully to the ground on all fours but was instantly on his feet and by her side. "My queen," he said, eyes landing briefly on Aurora before skipping to his mistress.

"The princess is unharmed," she said, nearly shoving the girl into Diaval's arms in her haste to free herself. "But the smoke is getting into her lungs. Move away from here and return to the moat. Do not leave until I have come to get you."

Something flashed deep within Diaval's eyes as he lifted the princess into his sturdy arms. The flames roared mightily behind them. "But Male-"

"Leave at once," she commanded, in a voice that brooked no argument, and then she whirled away, black cloak swirling, as a second whooshing approached from beyond the Wall…and at an alarming speed.

Raising her hands high above her head, staff held tightly in her left hand, Maleficent prepared to defend her home.


	7. Wounds of the Heart

In all the world, there was only one smell: the acrid stench of burning leaves.

The Moors was a wasteland. Not the entire realm, fortunately, but for a mile on both sides of the barrier there was nothing but ash and dust, dead bodies and crows, smoke and debris, fiery embers and tilting trees…and the Wall. Maleficent's Wall of Thorns remained, though scarcely anything else did.

The human soldiers on the other side fled when faced with the sheer power behind Maleficent's assault. Her green energy, which signified both her power and the magic within that power, seeped over the miles and miles of vines and brambles that were being burned. She managed to snuff out the flames before they could spread, but the damage had been done. King Stefan's "White Inferno," as his men had taken to calling it, had destroyed an alarming amount of foliage. 

The Wall had once been impenetrable, but no longer, it would seem. However, it was still thick and, for the humans at least, next to impossible to walk through. Virtually nothing could break through the dense wall of vines, branches, rocks and other such elements of the earth. _Virtually_ nothing.

There was no avoiding it any longer. Maleficent was worried now.

She walked stiffly back to her throne, her mind screaming with silent agony. The White Inferno had burnt the skin along her exposed arms when she'd raised her hands to defend her home. Both of her inner forearms were scorched almost entirely black, and there was a distinct swelling near her wrists. She could barely move either arm, and so keeping her staff within her grasp was a near impossible challenge. The rest of her body had suffered minor burns as well, and although there were no other visible signs of these burns, the pain she felt was exquisite. It was everywhere, all at once, and there didn't seem to be an end to it.

She moaned softly as she walked, not daring to scream or rage aloud. She did not wish the others to know of her injuries. They were painful, sure, but not something she couldn't handle by herself. Self-reliance had always been a quality of hers she'd cultivated carefully. 

A shrill shout stopped her in her tracks. Maleficent's head snapped up and she glanced around the surrounding forest, but she saw nothing. A few moments later there was another shout, followed by a bout of laughter. Trying not to tense up, Maleficent hurried to the edge of Symphony Stream, where she could see her throne and all that it overlooked.

Diaval and Aurora were splashing around in the water, laughing and smiling up at the gloomy sky. Several rays of sunlight illuminated their pale skin and twinkling eyes; Aurora's as blue as a newly sprung cornflower, Diaval's as dark and depthless as the bottom of a well.

Her only thought: _They go well together._

It was true; they were mirror images, one light and airy with an aura of insurmountable optimism, the other dark and heavy with the world's secrets. He would do something to make her laugh, and she would flounce about with blatant theatrics to make him smile. One would retreat while the other rushed forward. It was like a musical dance, one that Maleficent had been privy to many times before.

 _The looks he throws her way, and the steadying hand he places on her shoulder, and even the brightening of his features when she opens her mouth and lets loose a careless laugh... He must fancy her,_ Maleficent thought, blank-faced and unfeeling.

She felt a tiredness deep down in her bones that she knew would never leave.

"You must allow me to strike back!" Aurora said breathlessly. "Elsewise it won't be a fair fight."

"There will be no fair fights in this realm," Diaval growled, and lurched forward, splashing the young princess. She shrieked with laughter and tried unsuccessfully to dodge his attempts.

"Not fair!" she called, giggling all the while. "Not fair, not fair!"

"It might be I'm just awfully good at this game." Diaval grinned.

"Oh, very well." Aurora rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips, glaring. It was not very well done, however, and it was only a moment more before a smile stretched across her face and she started giggling again. Suddenly: "Look, over there! The smoke has cleared."

Diaval's head whipped in the direction of the Wall of Thorns; there was still plenty of black smoke rising into the air, but not in as many places. Aurora looked simultaneously relieved and worried.

Maleficent sighed. _I shall not make them wait any longer, I suppose._

She emerged from the trees, her back straight and her mouth set in a thin, unwavering line. Her left arm screamed and screamed and screamed again as she lifted and dropped her staff, but she would not falter, not for a moment, not in front of the two people whom she cared for the most. They would not see her weakness when she most needed to be strong. 

" _Maleficent!_ " Aurora screamed, and then she was running at her, slogging through the knee-high water with frantic, jerky movements. Diaval stopped moving and stood still as stone.

"No, child," Maleficent said brusquely, extending a hand. "I'm unclean. The smoke has covered me whole."

Aurora slowed and stood before her, eyes wide and hands shaking. She tentatively touched Maleficent's sooty cheek. "Your face…it's all black!"

She smiled faintly. "Yes, indeed. The smoke's doing, I assume."

Aurora inhaled deeply, shuddering. "Oh, I was so _worried_. I wasn't sure if–-you'd gone away so suddenly, I--oh…" Her smile wavered.

"Hush, child," Maleficent said, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder, though it pained her immensely to do so. "There's no need for that."

"You look so…so unwell!" she burst out, and then she started to cry.

Maleficent closed her eyes briefly. _I cannot,_ she thought, pained. _I cannot help her, I can barely move my arm, but she is upset and-–_

Diaval was there when she opened her eyes, though he wasn't looking at her. "Aurora," he said softly, soothingly, "let us go back to the stream. We may sit beside it and watch for rainbow trout, what do you say?"

She sniffled and nodded, watery eyes lingering on Maleficent as the man beside her led her far away. Not once did Diaval acknowledge her. Maleficent felt all the more tired for this. Dumbly, she dragged herself across the moat and behind her throne, where a wide opening that led into a single, stone-and-wood carved room awaited, barely big enough for two people. Her precious few belongings were housed inside, but she did not require their presence now; instead, she headed over to a wall where a simple, unadorned mirror hung. She leaned against a jutting piece of stone and stared at herself through bleary eyes.

A pale face hidden beneath a black coating of ash and dust, electric green eyes drooping with fatigue, thin body shaking with agony… Maleficent sneered at her reflection, disgusted with what she saw. This was no queen, no powerful enemy to be feared. What she saw in the mirror was a pitiful woman succumbing to pain and weariness. With her last bit of energy, Maleficent tore the mirror from the wall and sent it crashing into thousands of glittering pieces on the stone floor.

Slumping, she closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment more of peace...

"Mistress."

"What?" she snapped, the word ripping from her throat even before she could open her eyes.

"It is well past nightfall."

Maleficent struggled to stand upright. Well past nightfall? But that was still an hour or two off…unless she'd fallen asleep. _Weak,_ she berated herself. _You are so weak._

Though she did feel quite well-rested now, at least.

"I understand that," she replied briskly, tilting her chin up. Diaval had changed out of his wet clothes and now wore a plain black shirt and pants. His hair was slicked back, as usual, and his eyes watched her with a keen awareness she had never noticed before. "I needed a moment to myself."

He nodded but didn't answer.

Unnerved by his stare, she walked around her small inner room. "Aurora?" she inquired after a moment.

"I led her home and watched as she entered the fairies' care," he said mildly. "She is safe."

Maleficent nodded, distracted. Was Aurora still upset, or had Diaval managed to calm her down? She did not like to see the little princess worked up, especially when she was at fault.

"You have my gratitude," she said stiffly, remembering the way he'd laughed and watched Aurora with warmth in his eyes. "Now leave me."

He said nothing, and she did not hear him move.

"Leave me, Diaval," she repeated, impatient. "I wish to be alone."

"You are alone far too often, my queen," he said softly.

"That is none of your concern," she retorted, taken aback by this observation.

"Of course it is," he said, forehead creasing. "You brood when you are left alone, and I fear that this brooding is…detrimental to you."

"You speak nonsense," she said brusquely, but she could see the truth in what he said. When she was alone with her thoughts, she tended to sink deeper and deeper into a heavy depression, and each time it became harder for her to resurface. Of course, Diaval had no way of knowing that.

"I am attuned to your moods, mistress," he continued, undeterred by her sour attitude. "I know when you're angry or offended…and when you're upset, too. You rarely feel that way, so when it does bloom within you, I am aware of its presence right away."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying," he continued softly, taking a step towards her, "that I know you're hurting right now."

"Hurting?" she repeated angrily. "I can't--but-- _hurt_ as in…" She stammered for a second, unable to reconcile these words of his to herself. Then, incredulously, "Do you mean to say I'm _sad_? Because that is not the case at all, I warn you. I am angry with the king and his relentless follies, and I am concerned about this girl-child who must be protected at all times, and I am-–"

"You are hurt," he interrupted roughly, and now his eyes were fixed on her arms.

In her fury, she had lifted up her hands, ranting and cursing and all the while unaware of the pain, and the sleeves of her cloak had sunk back to reveal the blackened skin beneath.

"No," she said, and then a second time, "No."

But it was too late. He had seen.

"You are hurt," he said again, incredulous. He stepped forward once more, but this time she quickly backtracked, desperate to widen the distance between them.

"Stay where you are, Diaval," she warned, placing her arms by her sides. "I have no need of you. If I must ask you to leave again…"

"I will not leave you," he said stubbornly, crossing his arms defiantly. "Not while you are injured."

Maleficent sighed. "It is nothing-–" she tried fruitlessly.

"No," Diaval interrupted, with a sharp shake of his head. "No, you won't be getting rid of me so easily." He crossed the room then and gently grabbed hold of her arms, turning them palm-up. She hissed as the sleeves rubbed against her burned skin. "We must tend to these wounds, else they'll worsen."

She nodded, unwilling to meet his eyes. This was necessary, she knew that, and yet she felt ashamed and stupidly incompetent. This was not how she needed to look in front of her raven. She had to be strong and brave and utterly fearless…not broken-down and in pain. Yet she sensed there was nothing else to do but wipe the wounds clean and wait for them to heal.

"If you insist," she muttered resentfully, watching as his broad hands swallowed her small ones. Her heart beat just a bit quicker.

"I do," he said softly, squeezing her hands, and when she looked up, he was smiling so very, very gently.

Against her will, she felt her own lips tremble up in response.


	8. The King's Hellfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **thank you to everyone who’s commented & left kudos! 🥺💞**

Her skin was leathery, and black, and ugly. The pain she'd felt so acutely at first had dwindled and died whilst Diaval attended to her. It seemed her nerve endings were so severely damaged that they'd simply ceased firing; she felt nothing now. But the absence of pain was worse than the constant agony, somehow. 

Deep down, she wondered if this was a sign that she was growing accustomed to pain. If it was becoming a part of her. 

_Irrational,_ she thought, angry with herself. _Unreasonable, stupid, senseless. I know pain, and pain knows me. Not experiencing any feeling is very odd, yes, but that doesn't mean I'm_ accustomed _to pain._ That was ridiculous.

Yet she wondered.

"How are the wounds faring today, my queen?" Diaval strode across the gloomy moat with practiced ease, his strides purposeful and his eyes direct in the early morning sunlight. He bent down on one knee before her and tenderly grasped her hands in his.

Maleficent sighed, acting the part of the annoyed patient. "How am I to be sure, Diaval? I am no healer."

"Nor am I," he retorted, examining the burns, "but the purpose of healing salves is common knowledge."

"Is it?" she asked mildly, staring down at the top of his head. He seemed unusually catty today. "Strange that I don't seem to be privy to this knowledge you speak of."

"Strange indeed," he muttered, and released her hands after an extra second or two. Maleficent thought nothing of it; instead, her mind dredged up images of Diaval and Aurora and their laughing faces, so startlingly bright against the dankness of the Moors.

"What is Aurora up to today?" she asked distractedly, searching for her staff.

"She's working on her flower garden, mistress, just as she said she would," he responded, and offered her the magnificent mahogany staff before she wandered too far.

She nodded her thanks and carefully stepped over the moat by way of a tattered wooden bridge. "You should keep her company," she said off-handedly, observing the way the flowers drooped and the trees swayed with a soft breeze. "I told her she must remain far from the Wall, yet I have my doubts. She's a curious one, and I can already imagine her wandering closer than she ought."

Diaval's lips twisted--whether he meant to smile or grimace, she was not sure. "Actually, my queen, I thought I'd stay with you today."

She raised a single eyebrow and turned around to face him. "Did you? I'm glad you _thought_ so, Diaval, but _thinking_ does not always get you where you wish to go. I say that you must remain close to Aurora until she has moved on from the Wall and all it entails. Now go."

He did not move.

She sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Must you disobey me at every turn?"

"It's not my intention to cause you stress, but I would really rather stay by your side, my queen." Diaval looked quite determined, and she knew his stubbornness was not to be trifled with.

"You can be _very_ annoying," she said after a pause, rolling her eyes. She took off, brushing aside anything that dared block her path. Not once did she glance behind her; Diaval would keep pace.

The Wall of Thorns loomed dark and damaged up ahead, and Maleficent's mouth twisted as she examined it. The closer she got, the worse the Wall looked. The vines were charred, and all the lesser components that made up the Wall had been reduced to ash in most places. A distasteful burning smell filled the air; it was still so acrid that her eyes welled up with stinging tears.

"Horrifying," she muttered to herself, plucking a charred twig that hung from the Wall. It turned to ash in her hands.

"I agree," her raven said, eyebrows furrowed.

"I do not speak of the Wall," she explained. "It's the king's new concoction, called the White Inferno by his foot soldiers. What a detestable weapon."

"What makes it different from other fires?" he inquired, walking slowly up and down the length of the Wall.

"Everything. It is white, with a brilliant purple tip. The flames burn hotter and brighter than any other type of fire I've ever seen. It explodes upon impact, sending out heat waves thousands of degrees above normal. I know little else." Her arms throbbed as she remembered the unbearable heat that bore down on her while she tried to defend her home.

Diaval came up beside her. "You were very brave. I hope you know that."

"Brave?" This prompted a raised eyebrow, and her smile was sarcastic. "There was nothing _brave_ about what I did. I only acted as I saw necessary."

"You protected the princess."

"It was necessary," she repeated, striding along the Wall, patching up the burned areas as best she could. Her green magic swirled from her fingertips.

Suddenly there was a hand on her arm. Upper arm, of course, where the fire hadn't managed to reach. "You mistake my meaning. You protected the princess _at your own peril._ "

Maleficent tried to look unaffected, but Diaval's close proximity shook her. "There was nothing to fear. I am the queen, and these weapons don't frighten me."

Diaval sighed. "You may not be human, Maleficent, but you are still as vulnerable as one, especially when faced with a weapon that liquefies your skin upon contact. You protected the princess by throwing yourself in front of the danger. That is heroic."

"So now you speak to me of heroes?" She scoffed and moved away so that his hand hung in the air, no longer touching her arm. "The comparison there is weak, I warn you."

"So you'd rather think of yourself as some evil creature rather than a hero?" If she hadn't known any better, Maleficent might think her pet was _angry_ with her. The thought amused her. 

"Well, I _am_ the Mistress of Evil, or haven't you heard?" The rumors from the king's homeland had reached her ears sure enough; she knew what the commonfolk called her behind her back. It was a fitting name, though, she had to admit. In fact, she quite liked the title. _Mistress of Evil._ It had a certain ring to it.

"They don't know you truly," Diaval insisted.

Maleficent paused then, the green magic shimmering around her hand. "And you do?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "I have spent years upon years by your side, and I'm familiar with everything you do."

" _Everything_? Isn't that a bit presumptuous? Maybe it is that I _allow_ you to know only what I wish you to know."

That made Diaval blink. _Has this not occurred to him?_ she wondered, puzzled. _He's my pet, yes, but he's also my servant. I can't have him knowing all my secrets._

"Whether I know you intimately or not, my queen, I feel that 'Mistress of Evil' is ill-suited." Diaval raised a defiant eyebrow.

 _Intimately._ Maleficent hated that word and all it entailed. She was not one for sentimentality or romantic fantasy. Those things were best left to the likes of naïve little girls who only saw joy in the world. Girls like Aurora who had bright eyes and an even brighter future.

Well, for the most part. Save any damning curses, of course. 

Maleficent sighed and willed her magic away. The Wall would remain intact…at least for a little while longer. "I don't wish to quarrel with you, Diaval. Heroes and nicknames aside, I protected Aurora because she is a princess. She is important to the human realm, and maybe one day to the Moors as well. She is worthy of protection, whereas I am…shall we say, expendable."

By the look of it, Diaval vehemently disagreed. But for her sake, he merely shook his head. "You may be many dark and dangerous things, but expendable you are not."

As they continued on in silence, heading back towards her throne, Maleficent's lips twisted up in a mockery of a smile. "Are you still so glad you decided to accompany me today? I'm sure Aurora picked pretty flowers and sang some wonderful melodies…"

Surprisingly, Diaval snorted. "I am not especially interested in these activities, my queen. I'm sure you know that."

He was wrong. "Really? You seemed quite taken with her flower idea, and her voice _is_ pleasing to the ears."

"Not as pleasing as your company," Diaval said with a sly grin.

She rolled her eyes, though a light dusting of color dusted her cheekbones. "How very cheeky of you."

The blush both angered and surprised her; Maleficent wasn't used to being taken unaware by such comments. Not because she was always ready to respond to them—that was the epitome of arrogance—but because no one dared to speak to her in such a manner. In fact, she was so caught up in Diaval's sudden boldness that she nearly dropped straight into a patch of quicksand. At the very last second, Diaval's hand shot out and grabbed hold of her own, yanking her safely to the side.

"Maleficent," he breathed, eyes worried. "Are you well?"

She blinked and swallowed, alarmed by her blatant carelessness. "Yes, I…why, I'm fine. Th-thank you, Diaval," she stuttered, staring with shock into his deep black eyes. There was concern there, and something else as well. Maleficent stepped away, unwilling to dwell on just what that emotion might be.

Diaval, however, refused to release her hand. "You seem a bit unsteady on your feet, my queen. Might I suggest you keep hold of me…to maintain your balance, of course," he added when he saw she was going to argue.

"Of course," she said distractedly, still in a state of shock. His hand was clenched tightly around hers, and the way he'd looked at her, with such alarm and…fear?...in his eyes— Well, she wasn't exactly sure what to do. Feeling flustered, she gestured for him to continue on.

They broke through a copse of weathered trees, hand-in-hand, to find Aurora waiting by her throne. At the sight of them, the little princess jumped to her feet, grinning. When her eyes alighted on their joined hands, however, she skidded to a stop—a comical sight, under other circumstances—and stared at Maleficent curiously.

"Is everything all right, Godmother?"

"Perfectly," she responded, some of her wits finally returning (yes, yes, better late than never). She began to pull her hand away, not with outright aggressiveness but with firm intent, and was yet again taken aback when Diaval tightened his hold.

"You're well again, my lady?"

"Quite," she said shortly, her mind fixing on his inclusion of the strange title. _My lady,_ she thought. _He's never called me that before. And lately he's been using my natural name… Did I ever give him leave to do so?_ She didn't believe she had.

"I've been wondering where you went," Aurora continued, unaware that anything was wrong. "Can we go swimming again today? It's so humid out, my dress is sticking to my skin!" She made a face at that.

"Yes, yes," Maleficent said, waving a hand. "Diaval, I would thank you to keep Aurora company."

"You're not going to join us?" Aurora frowned, her big blue eyes widening.

A smile flickered, there and gone in a blink. "I'm afraid not, child. I have much and more to consider."

She sighed. "If you say so."

The princess leaped over the moat and skipped to the river, her dress flapping about her legs and her hands soaring by her side. Maleficent wondered briefly what it would be like—how it would feel—to possess such an untroubled disposition. 

But alas. Such imaginings were best left to those who had a chance at peace. 

She turned, alreading planning her day, and noticed Diaval still standing a few feet to the side, watching her with eyes that betrayed not a single thought. Dark eyes. Impossibly dark. They unnerved her, which of course vexed her enormously—it was not like him to be so unreadable

Maleficent raised a single eyebrow, and after a moment Diaval turned away, though not without an obvious clenching of his jaw.

_Stubborn bird._

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_White Inferno._

_The name whispers along the slick castle walls, rebounding off the mountainous pillars and slithering over cobbled rooftops and under heavy wooden doors. The name passes from mouth to mouth, filling the air with dread and foreboding. The name instills fear and loathing but loyalty and respect too. No man dares turn his back on it, else it sneak up behind him and melt the flesh from his bones._

_White Inferno._

_The king's last resort._ It will save us all, _the commonfolk say._ It will burn our kingdom and all the rest, _others argue. Soldiers shy from its unnatural glare, and the queen herself will not hear its name spoken in her presence. Some say that the fire was tossed up from hell itself. Some say that it burns its victims according to the severity of their sins. The skin of men melt for hours while women are burnt to smoky ashes. Children are tortured for days, their innocence unable to protect them from the devil's fire._

_White Inferno._

_"I mean to use it soon," the king whispers under his breath. "It has been far too long. I should have vanquished her long ago."_

_"Her?" his captains ask, troubled. "Do we not speak of the Moors, sire?"_

_The king glances at them disdainfully before casting his gaze back on the enormous glass box sitting in the center of his gloomy solar. "Of course we speak of the Moors. But she is queen there, she embodies the realm, don't you see?"_

_The men exchange fearful glances._

_"We must burn her precious land to dust. Only then can we burn_ her."

_"You speak of Maleficent, the fairy queen?"_

_"DO NOT SPEAK THAT NAME IN MY CASTLE!" the king roars, whirling on them with malevolence in his words and pure madness in his eyes._

_The generals wait in silence, struck immobile by fear._

_The king composes himself after many silent minutes. "As I said, we destroy her homeland, we destroy her. Then I may rest. The kingdom may rest," he corrects, sensing the soldiers' confusion._

_"As you say, sire," the generals respond, their iron spears trembling._

_"I will spill my White Inferno from the heavens, and all who reside within the Moors, that evil wasteland, shall perish. Her bones will lie amidst the ashes of her demon creatures forevermore." The king sighs, examining the glass box with feverish intensity. "Soon," he says softly, viciously. "Soon I will unleash my fire."_

_The box shudders violently, shaking and twisting from side to side as the fearsome black wings within beat and beat and beat, forever striving for a freedom waiting just beyond the glass walls._

_Soon._

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The word thundered in her mind, shoving aside all thoughts, emotions, actions. Maleficent flew to her feet so swiftly she bumped her head against the ceiling of her tree-cave. The word continued to echo as she whirled around, the image of Stefan and his men flickering again and again every time she blinked.

_I will spill my White Inferno from the heavens._

Maleficent's heart was thudding so hard it was almost a physical discomfort. She snatched at her cloak, throwing it around her shoulders as she scrambled to the opening of the cave. Her arms were burning, but the pain was nowhere near powerful enough to overcome the terror in her mind.

_Soon._

King Stefan was coming. In a month, a week, a day, she could not be sure. But she could taste his impatience, his incredible need for vengeance; it was so filled with contempt that she felt dizzy. Stumbling past her throne, she flew over the bridge and through the Tangible Forest. The Moors was silent, all the creatures at rest, even her pet. They slept peacefully, unaware of the horrors about to befall them all.

_I will spill my White Inferno from the heavens._

Gasping, Maleficent ground to a halt on a tall hill overlooking the meadowlands. On the far side, she could just barely make out the fairies' ramshackle house, wherein Aurora slept undisturbed in her plush featherbed. The girl was safe…for tonight. Tomorrow, Maleficent knew, the trees and grass and woodland creatures might be afire, burning under the intensity of the king's hellfire.

She must do something. There was no longer a choice for her to make. _Act,_ she told herself. _Act or die. He is coming for us all._

_Soon._


	9. Everything Unspoken

A soft breeze, scented with the mix of a thousand flowers, lifted her cloak and fanned it out across the green grass, but she did not move. Her back ached and her legs were stiff and her arms throbbed in time with her heartbeat, but she did not move. The blue sky threatened rain, and even when thunder boomed in the distance, she did not move.

Not even when her name, carried on a breeze heavy with rain, reached her ears. It began as a shout, but distance forced it into little more than a faint murmur. Yet she knew the voice as well as she knew her own. Maleficent shut her eyes and breathed deeply, carefully erecting a mask that would hide all that she knew.

"Diaval," she said mildly, after a few minutes had passed. "What is it?"

A minute later he reached her and, without being asked, plopped down in the grass, flattening a small grouping of dandelions. "How could you hear me from so far away?"

"Sound carries," she said simply.

Five full minutes ticked by before he said in a tight voice, "I was worried. When I woke, you were already gone, and I could not find you for some time."

 _I will spill my White Inferno from the heavens, and all who reside within the Moors…_ There was an unspoken question there, she knew, but Maleficent would wait until he asked it outright. For some reason, the events of last night had filled her with such a sense of patience she knew she would wait forever, if necessary, for the right moment. 

Sure enough: "Why didn't you answer my call? I kept at it for over an hour."

_Soon._

"No need to sound so huffy, my pet," she replied vaguely, and reached out a hand to stroke his hair.

To her complete and utter shock, he swatted it away and rocketed to his feet. "I _despise_ that nickname, Maleficent, and you know that perfectly well. I am not some simple creature to be soothed with a pat on the head or a rub on the back."

 _He is so very_ angry, Maleficent thought, blinking up at him.

_I will spill my White Inferno from the heavens, and all who reside within the Moors, that evil wasteland…_

"I am not sure whether you are aware of this or not, but I am a man grown. I am not a child or an imbecile, and yet you treat me like one or the other, depending on your mood. I do not ask for much-–"

Maleficent was so terribly dazed and confused that, as she climbed laboriously to her feet, she allowed a disdainful laugh to escape her lips. "Oh, Diaval, you do not have _leave_ to ask me for anything. You are my serv-"

"Your _servant_ , yes, you have need of reminding me every hour of every day," he snapped, jaw tightly clenched. "Am I nothing else to you but a slave? Sometimes I think you see me as a burden as well."

"That is _not_ true, Diaval. Where are you getting these preposterous ideas?" She shook her head, genuiely baffled. "I don't-–"

"Stop," he demanded, throwing up his hands. "The more you talk, the more I don't want to hear what you have to say. I have been so faithful to you, and I have always, _always_ done as you've asked, yet-–"

She tried again to explain, not understanding what he wanted to hear. "I appreciate your unfailing loyalty, Diaval, but-–"

"I scout the forests ensuring all is well," he continued, as if he couldn't hear her. "I watch over the Wall and the enemies that wait beyond, I cater to even your most insignificant needs, and I entertain the little princess for hours and hours and hours, making sure she's happy and safe and unaware of the danger she's in-–"

This time _she_ interrupted. "I don't doubt any of these things, but you make it sound as if taking care of Aurora is an unwelcome task. She is more your age than mine, Diaval, and I thought you enjoyed the time you spent with her."

"Of course I do," he exclaimed. "She's a wonderful child, full of life and love and innocence, but that's not…she isn't…"

"What?" Maleficent snapped, her patience at an end. Her nerves were shot and her body was fatigued and her mind was warped with thoughts of death and destruction and fire… "For heaven's sake, spit it _out,_ Diaval."

_Soon._

"I am here for _you_ ," he shouted, eyes blazing. He stepped towards her, his body poised and dangerous. "Do you not understand? I wish to be by your side, always, and I thought you were aware of that, at least to some extent, yet you continue to banish me to the streams and the meadowlands to play nanny for the princess."

Maleficent was thoroughly confused. "But I thought you loved the princess."

"Love?"

Exasperated, she said slowly, "Yes, Diaval. You and Aurora are so very similar, and so very _lonely_ , I assumed you had much in common. You see, I pushed the two of you together so that you'd be able to talk and play and do…whatever else…whilst out of my sight." It hurt tremendously to admit this, but she would not falter now. 

"You think I love Aurora." He spoke softly, and Maleficent had to strain to hear over the pounding in her head.

_I will spill my White Inferno from the heavens…_

"Yes," she said, defeated, and then again, "Yes."

_…and all who reside within the Moors…_

Diaval stared at her with those dark, unblinking eyes…and began to smile. Only slightly, so that it looked like nothing more than a thoughtless twitch of the lips, but she saw it instantly.

_…that evil wasteland…_

"It is true," she continued wearily. "I know it to be. I have seen it."

_…shall perish._

"You fool," Diaval whispered, and then he was stepping towards her, lifting his calloused hands to her face, drinking her in with his beautifully dark eyes, bending his head down so that their lips may brush…and brush again…and brush a third time…

Diaval pressed a kiss to her mouth, and everything unspoken finally became known.


	10. One Step Ahead

Diaval tasted like cinnamon and cloves. A strange combination, to be sure, but a welcome one.

His hands clutched her upper arms so that she was unable to move away. She could not breathe either--no, no, that wasn't right: she was _afraid_ to breathe for fear of missing this moment. Up until the instant their lips brushed, Maleficent had no true knowledge of his feelings for her or her feelings for him. But now, as his mouth moved against hers with a decisiveness contradictory to his nature, she no longer had any doubts about their relationship. Or, at least, what their relationship _could_ be.

_Why didn't I see this?_ she asked herself, struck by her complete ignorance. _Did I choose to turn a blind eye to the way he acts around me? Did I decide to totally disregard the way I feel whenever he's near?_ Her willful blindness was disconcerting.

Maleficent slowly placed her hands on his chest, to both distance herself and make room for her wounded arms; if Diaval accidentally touched her there, she might scream. Usually she could control the urge to succumb to the pain, but with Diaval touching her, there was no telling what she could or couldn't do. That was how delicate her state of mind was; she felt vulnerable and dazed, and for her, that combination was a frightening one.

Diaval reacted by sliding his hands down her sides and around her waist, drawing her close against his heated body. She could feel his tensed muscles beneath a tattered onyx jacket that brushed the backs of his knees and which covered another silk shirt with a V-shaped neckline. He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, taking her by surprise. It was as if he wanted to drink her in and swallow her whole. Maleficent found the notion terrifying.

She murmured his name against his lips, pulling back just enough to fill her lungs with fresh air. Half-pleading, she shook her head, unable to give voice to her fears. _I cannot allow him to control me,_ she thought desperately as he ignored her attempt at resistance and pressed his lips to her throat. _He'll hurt me in the end. They always do._

Struggling to move out of reach, Maleficent yanked herself back, knowing he would let her go, else he might rub against her burns. "Release me," she said, her voice unsteady.

"No, my queen. I couldn't even if I wanted to, I'm afraid. Stay," he commanded, pushing her gently up against a tree. One hand snaked around to cup the back of her neck whilst the other clutched at the fabric of her cloak, bunching it up inside a tight fist. He pressed their mouths together once more, and she had to catch her breath at the force behind it. _He is desperate for me,_ she realized, her head spinning. _How long has this been going on?_

Heat snaked up her arms and coiled in her chest, constricting her tensed body. She had never felt quite so very, very warm; for the longest time, her heart and mind had been chilled with contempt and vengeance. Never had she experienced such a pure glow of warmth; it eradicated everything that lie dormant and cold within her.

Diaval's lips were insistent; they whispered across her cheeks, down her throat and then back up, claiming her own swollen lips with vehement intent. Moaning, he slid his hands up her spine, beneath her clothing, and the skin-on-skin contact made Maleficent gasp.

"Oh!" she exclaimed breathlessly. 

Diaval's lips twitched. "You're surprised."

"Very," she managed, gazing at his mouth. _So tempting,_ she thought. _I must control the urge to smother him with these…feelings…of mine._ "You're playing with fire," she added, daring him to deny it.

He tilted his head, considering. "You are dangerous, my queen, but not to me."

_And that is where you're wrong,_ she thought darkly. _I am dangerous to you most of all._ Aloud, she said, "How long?"

"For a while," he replied vaguely, knowing what she asked without needing clarification. "Over the years I've seen every aspect of you--from your personality, your moods, your amusements--and I have grown closer to you than any other living being in this world. How could I not?"

Her heart fluttered, and she clapped a hand to her chest as if she could stifle it. "Have I been so blind?"

Diaval pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. "You've had a lot on your plate, Maleficent. I don't resent you for that."

She swallowed and gazed into his dark eyes. "I--I'm not sure…what to make of this," she said at last. Even this confession hurt; she hated that she was unsure, confused, bewildered even.

"We need not make any moves--at least, not until you're comfortable." A hint of doubt crept into Diaval's eyes, and his brows furrowed. "You…do feel the same as I…yes?"

Now it was Maleficent's turn to smile, although she did so softly, so as not to offend. Male egos were, after all, quite fragile. "Of course, Diaval. I would never have…responded in such a way," and here her cheeks flushed pink, "if I did not reciprocate your feelings."

"Good to know," he said, touching a gentle finger to her cheek, which he stroked as if it were fine silk.

Maleficent was momentarily distracted by a flash of lightning off to the east. She saw that the clouds had grown as dark as granite, and this worried her. A heavy weight settled in her chest; the state of the sky was an ominous sign. Even now, with Diaval by her side and all their feelings finally exposed, she knew that war was just around the bend.

"Maleficent?" Diaval placed a finger under her chin and turned her face to his. The darkness of his eyes were highlighted with concern. "I fear you have gone someplace far away where I cannot reach."

She smiled grimly. "Your fears are not too far off the mark. There is a war coming, Diaval. Stefan has seen to that."

He grimaced. "There have been whispers, my queen. The creatures fear the White Inferno." He paused, shifting his stance. "And I fear for you."

"No need," she said immediately, brushing this off, though she knew it would annoy him. "I can handle myself, as you well know."

Diaval glanced to the side, and then, sighing (disappointedly?), gestured to a dense grove of trees. "Shall we sit? We have much to talk about."

"Indeed," she whispered, her eyes lingering on the eastern sky.

They did not talk or even so much as glance towards each other as they crossed a shallow stream and carefully sat on the dewy ground. Maleficent swept aside a muddy patch of ground before lowering herself, and she clutched her cloak tightly about her. There was an eerie chill to the air--as if some malicious entity traveled on the wind, intent on ripping through clothes and burrowing into goose-bumped skin. Diaval sat tensely by her side, his leg just a hairs-breadth away.

"I feel a change in you," he said hesitantly, fingers drumming on his knees.

She sighed. "All I can think of is King Stefan and this war he's intent on starting. No," she said suddenly, shaking her head, "what am I saying: this war is already well under way. The land reeks of destruction, and I fear that there is more, much more, to come."

Diaval hunched his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair, as she had done not long before. A wave of heat coursed through Maleficent's body, and she forced it back with some effort. "His White Inferno is only the beginning, Diaval."

"Yes," he said with a strained sigh. "He's going to make his move soon."

"Very soon, possibly in a matter of days," she lied, thinking, _It will be hours, minutes even. I have no way of knowing, and I fear my uncertainty most of all._ A second or two later, she added angrily, _I have been doing far too much fearing lately. It is a wearisome thing._

"We have to be ready," Diaval said with just a tinge of urgency. He dare not outright provoke her by insinuating that she was not ready for war…but still, with so much on her mind, she could hardly be offended when he hinted at it. 

"And we will be. Preparations are in the making. I've restructured the Wall of Thorns, made it stronger, tougher, more solid. It is nearly impenetrable. Nearly," she said again, and a muscle in her jaw ticked.

"What of Aurora?" he asked softly.

Maleficent paused, a lump in her throat. "The princess will remain with her fairies. I see no reason to involve her in this. I haven't told her a thing about what's happening, though surely she must suspect. After all, she was almost burned alive while the king's soldiers tested their abominable fire weapon."

"But you saved her, Maleficent. You knew what was going on, and you acted. You're always one step ahead, and that is why you'll win this war." Diaval touched her arm lightly.

_You, you, you,_ she thought warily, her chest tightening. _Yes, it is all up to me to save the Moors. An entire realm! The fate of our land rests on my shoulders, yes, but I fear this particular burden may be too much for me._

Of course, she dared not voice these despairing thoughts aloud. If she spoke of her doubt, it would spread like wildfire--no, like White Inferno--through the Moors until every creature had heard of her uncertainty. Then they would quickly grow stark-raving mad with terror, and Maleficent could not have that. Her creatures, her fellow fairies and forest giants and water nymphs, had to believe in her and trust that she would make the right decisions and protect them all.

"You will handle it, my queen," Diaval said, the side of his mouth lifting in an attempt at a reassuring smile. "As you always do."

Maleficent breathed in slowly. "I will," she said, catching his eyes. "I will."

Diaval touched her face again, and Maleficent closed her eyes, relishing the contact. He was so warm, so inviting. To leave him, to lose him…she could not bear it. Not when they were finally getting to know each other as more than master and servant.

Once more, Diaval touched his lips to hers, his tongue probing and circling the inside of her mouth. He sighed contentedly, and Maleficent kissed him back--hard. With bruising force, she cemented their lips and arms and legs together, wanting to dissolve into him, to leave this cruel world and its cruel beings behind, and to live in a quiet, peaceful place with her pretty raven by her side. She wanted to become one with him, wanted it so much…

But when they fell asleep together on the top of the grassy hill overlooking the meadowlands, black-clad arms and legs merely entangled instead of melded, she thought it would have to do.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She woke before sunrise.

It was the earliest part of the morning, an hour or two from dawn. The sky was a combination of burnt brown and light gray, although those granite-colored clouds still peppered the sky. _The storm,_ she thought. _It is coming, slowly but surely._

Despite the brisk wind that had blown constantly not half a day before, the world around her now was as still and dead as rock. Nothing moved--not the creatures nor nature itself--and a faint stench of decaying leaves drifted in the air, overpowering other smells that may have been trying to permeate the landscape. Maleficent felt adrift in this strange, motionless world; everything was waiting for her to make the first move.

Clasping together the brass buttons under her chin, which ensured her cloak would remain fixed around her shoulders, Maleficent took a step in the direction of the Wall of Thorns…and then another step…and then another.

With her magnificently carved staff in hand, she beat a steady rhythm past the swamp that protected her throne, around the quietly trickling body of water known as Symphony Stream, and through the dark and silent Tangible Forest. She reached the perimeter of her Wall of Thorns without issue.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she allowed herself to envision, just for a moment, Diaval awakening on the hillside and finding the spot beside him empty, the grass which had been flattened by her body already sprung back into place. He would grope about for a moment, floundering, wondering where she could've gone, and then, when she failed to appear, he would start to worry. Worry would soon turn to fear, and fear to revelation--she had left him. Not just him, he would soon discover, but the Moors too.

Raising her heavily burned and bandaged arms, Maleficent closed her eyes and thought, _It is for the best, my dear Diaval. Despite what you may think, I am not fleeing. No, I am running towards the danger, and once I meet it, I will say, "Here! Here I am. Come and fight me. I have come to end this." And King Stefan will appear in iron armor, surrounded by iron-clad soldiers wielding iron-tipped spears and axes and stakes, and I will raise my wooden staff with wounded arms, and we will fight, and we will end it._

The vines and branches and brambles and everything else that composed the densely packed Wall of Thorns peeled away. A straight path, which stretched inches from Maleficent's feet all the way to the other side where there was trampled dirt, appeared. Without thinking of Diaval or her little princess, she strode through, her cloak fanning out behind her in a black wave. She reached the other side in several brisk strides, turned back around, and raised her hands again.

She closed the Wall behind her, sealing apart the two realms once more. A mingled sense of sadness, despair, and dread tightened her chest, but she raised her chin and swiveled back to face the imposing human kingdom. The war would start, all right, but on _her_ terms, in _her_ time. This was a despicable task indeed, but Maleficent was the Queen of the Moors, after all.

And a queen always protected her people.


	11. This Means War

** DIAVAL'S POV **

Diaval woke with a start.

The sky was nearly pitch black. At once, he knew that something was amiss. There was an emptiness in him that hadn't been there when he fell asleep. He ached all over; his joints were stiff and his mind was a bit hazy, as if he'd just taken a spill and cracked his head against a jutting piece of rock or something. 

Groaning, he rolled to his side and pushed himself, with considerable effort, to a sitting position. He clutched his head in his hands, fighting against a wave of fear.

"Maleficent," he said huskily, and reached out an absent hand. 

But it landed on grass and dirt and nothing more.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he kept patting, searching for her warm body. He turned and blinked, staring at the ground in all its wet, muddy glory. For a moment, Diaval was absolutely befuddled. Why was the spot beside him empty? Where was his queen? Where was Maleficent?

"Maleficent?" he said again, head fuzzy with confusion. 

No answer. This perplexed him, though he was beginning to feel something else too. The first hint of dread welled within him, making him inexplicably nauseous. _Something is amiss,_ he thought again.

Scrambling to his feet, Diaval hastily stretched out his limbs and called quietly for his queen. When he received no spoken response, he resorted to using the connection they'd developed from spending so many years together. He reached out with his mind, searching for her. He met empty space. Now Diaval's eyebrows creased, and a shudder ran through him.

 _Not good,_ he thought quietly. _Not good at all._

He couldn't quite explain why he felt that Maleficent's absence was a bad thing, but he'd gotten used to listening to his intuition. It had become useful when he started working under Maleficent, and it was usually very in tune to her activities and whereabouts. Over time, his mind-connection and psychic abilities had become so attuned to Maleficent's presence that he could always tell when there was a problem.

And right now, there was a big one. 

Feeling panicky, Diaval scrambled down the hillside and loped across the meadowlands. It was a few miles to Aurora's house, and he unfortunately had no way of turning himself into a raven to make the journey quicker, but he didn't mind the distance. He was starting to think that Maleficent's disappearance was a dire circumstance, and that fear overrode everything else. He needed the princess by his side. She usually managed to calm him down.

He flew to the wooden front door, almost tripping over his own two feet in his haste to reach Aurora. He drew back his hand to pound on the door like a crazed man, then remembered that there were other inhabitants who lived alongside the princess. What if the three fairies who were supposed to watch over Aurora weren't awake yet? It was quite early, after all. The sky was light in places, glimpses of muddled yellow sunlight shining down in slanting rays, but mostly there were just ominous storm clouds eclipsing the sky.

Diaval, thinking quickly, skirted around the side of the large brick house, covered with snake-like vines and overgrown foliage, and slipped into view of Aurora's bedroom by way of a circular window. He glimpsed her working, somewhat frantically, with some small object over by her writing desk.

He tapped his fingernail lightly on the window, not wanting to startle her.

Yet Aurora whirled around, the white ribbon in her hand fluttering to the ground as she grabbed at her chest. "Oh, Diaval!" she said breathlessly. "You scared me!"

He gave her a forced smile. "My apologies, Aurora. There is…you see…I'm…a matter of urgency," he said unintelligibly.

But Aurora had not heard. She'd picked up her white ribbon and now hastily wound it into her hair, smiling widely all the while. She practically skipped to the window, hands outstretched. "You're just in time! I'm so glad you could make it!" She paused, head cocked, scanning the meadowland behind him. "But where's my godmother? Is she going to surprise me?" Aurora clapped her hands. "I do so _love_ surprises!"

Diaval, blinking confusedly at her excited state, opened his mouth and then closed it again without saying anything.

Aurora, sensing his bafflement, slapped his arm playfully. "Oh, come off it. You've come to celebrate!" But when his perplexed expression persisted, she said slowly, "You've…you've come to celebrate my birthday…haven't you?"

"Birthday?" Diaval repeated, mystified. "Whose?"

A single, nervous laugh burst from Aurora's throat. "Why, _mine_ of course! Didn't I just say so?"

"Your birthday… _today_?" Understanding was beginning to penetrate the thick haze in his brain, and as he became more aware of what her words implied, he decided that he wasn't at all sure he wanted to understand.

"Yes," the princess said, exasperated. "It's my sixteenth name day!"

Diaval felt faint. All at once, everything began to make sense: the conversation with Maleficent concerning the approaching war with King Stefan, the unexplainable feelings of urgency and restlessness he'd felt emanating from Maleficent the previous night…it all tied together. _Days_ , he remembered her saying, with such characteristic confidence. _Very soon, possibly in a matter of days._

When all along, she'd really meant, _Now._

Today was the day of the curse.

Aurora's brow scrunched. "What was that?"

Only then did Diaval realize he'd spoken aloud. He swallowed back the dryness in his throat and said, "Today is the day of the curse. Your sixteenth name day. That's when the curse will be enacted."

"Curse?" Aurora said, her head jerking back. "I don't understand…is this some new game you've invented?"

"Maleficent never told you," he said slowly. _Oh,_ he thought then. _Oh, no._ He had assumed from the very beginning that she knew. _Thank the heavens I never mentioned it in her presence._ "N-never mind, Aurora. We'll get to that later. What's important is that Maleficent has fled."

She gasped, the hand that clutched at her chest now flying to cover her gaping mouth. "Fled? What do you mean, _fled_? Where has she gone?"

"To the King's castle," he said grimly, pushing the glass window aside. "I must go after her at once. She's in terrible danger. I don't know what she was thinking, taking this on herself–-"

"She's a queen," Aurora interrupted, and when Diaval turned to look at her, she was standing regally, hands by her sides, chin jutted forward. "Queens always look out for their kingdoms. Or should I say _queendoms._ " And here she giggled.

As frantic as Diaval was at this moment, what she said gave him pause. "Wait. How do you know Maleficent is a queen?"

Aurora shrugged. "It's quite clear. She's very sure of herself, and all the creatures within the Moors, the tree warriors especially, seem to obey her every word. So I figured out that…well, I have a queen for a godmother! I think it's extraordinary. Don't you agree?" She seemed very pleased by her detective work.

Diaval felt a small smile tug at his lips, but once he remembered where Maleficent was and what she planned on doing, the smile dropped away immediately. "You mustn't leave the house," he told the princess firmly. "To do so would be extremely unwise. You have to wait until I return with the queen-–"

Aurora held up a hand. "You're not saying what I think you're saying, are you?" She laughed. "Why, I'm going with you, of course! You can't possibly think to leave me here."

Diaval scoffed, though he was glancing off in the direction of the human kingdom. Time was of the essence, and he was wasting precious seconds arguing. "It is too dangerous," he said distractedly, thinking that if he left now, he could make it into the castle by mid-morning, maybe early-afternoon at the latest.

"I'm coming with you," she said again, lips pressed tightly together.

"You can't come anywhere near the castle!" he said loudly, nearly pleading with her now. He knew this was an imprudent thing to say in light of her being unaware of the curse, but he was desperate to find Maleficent. He wouldn't be able to bear it if something happened to her. 

"But you can't leave me here! Please, Diaval, I can't stay here alone, especially not if Maleficent's in trouble. I _won't_ stay," she added defiantly, crossing her arms. "You can't make me."

Too frazzled to think clearly, Diaval finally nodded his head and impatiently waved for her to climb out the window. The princess lost her pouty attitude at once and hurried to clamber through the tiny porthole. Diaval helped her down to the ground, rushing her a bit more than was probably necessary, and then took off across the meadowlands, his eyes set on something in the distance.

"Where are we going?" Aurora asked breathlessly, practically running so that she could maintain Diaval's swift pace.

He kept his eyes planted firmly on the distant horizon. "To the Wall of Thorns."

Aurora blinked and started to slow down. "But…but however will we get past it?"

Diaval's lips twisted into a grim smile as he flicked a glance over his left shoulder. Several giant, monstrous beings that resembled trees, who were carrying weapons like sharpened branches, shifted and rumbled through the Tangible Forest, sensing Diaval's presence.

"I have an idea."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
MALEFICENT'S POV   
**

The castle's southernmost gate was well-guarded, but that proved to be no trouble for Maleficent. 

She swept through the throng of soldiers as easily as if they were nothing more than troublesome branches blocking her way. Their screams echoed once, collectively, off the enormous parapets of the castle before her green energy smothered them. She could not afford to be heard approaching before she reached the king. He needed to be taken by surprise, if nothing else. He would surely be well-armed and well-coached in the way of fighting, and he would doubtless be able to react quickly, but to surprise him completely… That was the ticket.

Maleficent glided through the side entrance with nary a sound; her cloak whispered across the intricately detailed tiles. The walls, covered with ancient tapestries and gilded armor worn by previous great knights, were built so high that she could barely make out the ceiling beyond the slow-shifting gloom. She walked with practiced steps, not daring to rush herself needlessly; there would be plenty of time for haste in the coming hours.

Turning a corner, Maleficent found herself quite suddenly in the middle of the main hall. She could hear the ripple of voices fast approaching, and before she could locate the direction in which they were coming, she saw three or four shadows flicker up onto the brick walls, less than fifty feet away.

Raising her staff in one hand and extending the palm of her other hand, Maleficent closed her eyes, muttered some unintelligible words, and then opened them again as wide as they could go. Her green energy burst from her hands and swiftly floated down the length of her body, covering her staff as well. She was just lowering her arms when the soldiers came into view.

"Aye, and he says they's trouble on the western front as well, from sum undisclosed l'cation-–" The tallest of the three broke off and stopped, blinking. He sucked in a big breath and glanced about suspiciously.

"Something wrong, Darren?" This was from a dark-skinned man with a white scar running down the left side of his face.

Darren shook his head, as if casting off a thought or two. "Noffin, noffin, just thought I seen something. Or…" But here he trailed off, and the three men resumed walking, parting unconsciously around Maleficent. They vanished around a corner, and Maleficent moved on.

Soon she came across many more soldiers who were discussing the coming war and the "trouble on the western front." She walked among them, invisible and silent, like an all-seeing ghost. Some of the soldiers glanced about them as if they sensed an odd disturbance in the air but couldn't find its origin.

In no time at all the great, yawning doors of the king's Honorable Audience Chamber beckoned. The door frame was rimmed with ancient-looking hieroglyphs, and a gleaming mahogany floor stretched right up to the unadorned yet intimidating dais where the king and queen's thrones were positioned. They were magnificent in their height; the king's had to be eight feet tall and wrought of gold, silver, and a new metal: iron.

 _Ah,_ Maleficent thought. _Of course._

The queen's chair, by comparison, was significantly dwarfed by her husband's. The back was patterned with pink and yellow dyes that had somehow been melded into the wood. There was something else about the thrones, an important detail that could not be overlooked: they were occupied.

King Stefan and his queen, the willowy, dark-eyed Leah, perched upon their thrones as if waiting for the roof to cave in on their heads.

Leah, understandably, was tense and obviously filled with misgivings. She glanced every so often at her husband, who was graying and unkempt and just plain twitchy with what had to be madness. He jerked in his chair again and again, in a sporadic pattern, the heels of his boots tapping against the elegantly curved throne legs. There were six guards in the Honorable Audience Chamber alone: four on the king's side, two on the queen's.

"The hour is upon us," he growled, restless. "We must not wait any longer, else she'll gather her strength and strike us all down where we stand."

Queen Leah shuddered and kept her gaze lowered.

"Men," he barked, and at least four of them jumped before standing dutifully at attention. "It is time for this long-awaited war to commence." 

King Stefan then nodded to a small, cowering messenger who stood, quivering, in the far corner of the room. There was sweat beaded on his forehead. "Messenger," he called. "You will run to the far corners of the castle and let all who live here know that it is time. We will kill her. We will kill them all."

Queen Leah cleared her throat timidly. "My king, there is an issue concerning-–"

"Silence, woman," he snapped without glancing away from the doorway. He sensed something…an ominous sort of presence. "I'll hear none of your foolish fears now."

The queen swallowed, cheeks burning at the reprimand, and tried not to grit her teeth. There was the matter of their daughter, the princess, for heaven's sake, but he would not listen, and she dare not take things into her own hands. She did not believe herself capable of devising such a complex plan. _And,_ she thought morosely, _let's face it. I'm too afraid._

Maleficent, meanwhile, was assessing the scene with intense, calculating interest. This was a fascinating exchange she had encroached upon, to be sure, but it was not what she'd come here for. But then, when the queen stiffly asked permission to leave the room, she thought, _Maybe this_ is _what I've come for._

Queen Leah rose gracefully, though her arms were brittle and the sickly blue veins in her neck shone prominently through her pale skin. Without pondering what might happen as a consequence of her actions, Maleficent darted forward, simultaneously casting aside her magical veneer.

The breath caught in the queen's throat so that she somehow managed to gasp and shriek at the same time. Maleficent startled the queen so terribly that her body went instantly limp, and the fairy queen had no trouble yanking Leah from the dais completely.

" _Stefan!_ " she screamed hysterically, but Stefan had stopped moving.

A horrible grimace stole over the king's face. "Maleficent," he spat, the skin under his eyes rippling with miniscule nerve twitches. His fingers drummed out an unsteady beat on the arms of his throne.

"Indeed," she said in a low voice, watching his face carefully. She did have a dagger, conjured by her green magic, pressed to his queen's delicate throat, after all. "It seems the war has come to you, Stefan."

His face grew purple with rage. " _You will not speak my name, heathen!_ "

"Stefan," she said, and again, because it gave her great joy to defy him, "Stefan. I have known your name far longer than any other person alive in this world. Because of all that you've done to me, I should _own_ that name. It is the least you could do." She knew her condescending tone would infuriate Stefan.

And it did.

" _I will kill you,_ " he hissed hoarsely, rocketing up from his throne. "You will die by my hands, and my face will be the last thing you shall ever see."

The muscles in Maleficent's hands tensed, and this small motion brought the tip of her dagger right up against the queen's neck. A trickle of dark red blood welled up and slid slowly down her throat, which moved up then down as she moaned with terror.

King Stefan glanced at his queen disinterestedly, and a spasm of alarm swept through the fairy queen's body. Maleficent could see at once that grabbing Queen Leah and using her as leverage had been a major error in judgment. The king had obviously grown so out-of-touch with reality over the years, plagued by madness and a deep paranoia, that his co-ruler had come to mean next to nothing to him. He looked as if he barely recognized Leah, and, seeing this, his queen whimpered despairingly.

Maleficent's lips pressed into a tight line. "You do not care if I kill her," she stated. This was not a question.

The king stared blankly at her, and that was all the answer Maleficent needed. She flung the queen aside, tossing her to the ground like she would a rotten bouquet of wilting flowers. Queen Leah _humph_ ed as she hit the ground, and she seemed to shrivel into herself, throwing a teary-eyed glance over her shoulder.

For a brief moment, Maleficent allowed herself to pity the woman. She had not asked to be married to a crazed abomination like Stefan, and she definitely had not wanted her precious daughter, the heir to the throne, to be cast off into the woods like an abandoned orphan, kept away for nearly two decades.

But life, as Maleficent well knew, was rarely fair.

Shaking off her sympathy, Maleficent flicked back her robe, chin raised. "I see. She shall not be part of this then."

Stefan stared malevolently down at her. "You despicable creature. You should have stayed hidden behind your monstrous wall and waited for the war to come to your front doorstep. How dare you bring it to mine."

Maleficent casted wary eyes around her; she was dimly aware that there were ranks of iron-clad soldiers entering from all sides of the Honorable Audience Chamber. They held spears and crossbows and all sorts of metal accessories meant to burn through her skin. She would not back down though; it was too late for that. Besides, this was what she'd come here for. To fight, to end it all.

"You dared to cast a curse on my own daughter, knowing that she would succumb to a death-like sleep if we kept her close to our hearts, here in the castle. You forced us to part with her for most of her childhood, and now you bring the war to _me_! _HOW DARE YOU!_ " he screamed, frothing at the mouth like a rabid animal.

"You've been intent on killing my daughter all these years, biding your time until the day she comes of age! You've been waiting for your chance to rid me of my life too, I have no doubt!" King Stefan unsheathed a mighty sword which glittered black and silver in the gloomy light of the Chamber. "Well, _Maleficent_ , without your precious wings, I say you shall perish, and all whom you have loved will die terrible, agonizing deaths by your side."

Upon hearing her daughter's demise spoken of again (possibly for the second time, possibly for the hundredth), Queen Leah suddenly flew to her feet and rushed at Maleficent. Her eyes were crazed with fear for her child, and her hands were outstretched, the ends of her fingers hooked into claws. 

Taken aback, Maleficent reacted quickly, knocking aside her reaching hands and grasping the queen's upper forearms. They struggled for a moment, Maleficent trying to keep the queen at bay so as not to cause her undue harm, Queen Leah attempting to scratch her opponent's eyes out.

" _Enough!_ " Stefan bellowed, raising his sword high above his head. "Soldiers! Strike down this godless creature!"

At least three dozen men leaped forward to accept their liege lord's challenge.

Thinking quickly, for time was rushing forward in leaps and bounds now, Maleficent flicked her fingers at the queen's exposed face. The woman blinked rapidly, seemed to watch an invisible object fly from one side of the room to the other, and then staggered backward, collapsing to the floor in a heap of heavily-jeweled garments. The sleeping spell would last for an hour, two at most--that was more than enough time for Maleficent.

She looked down on the human queen again, experiencing another intense flash of sympathy for the woman, but then she spied a flicker of motion over by the entranceway. Her head snapped up and her hands immediately burst into green flames, awaiting another foe, but instead she found herself face-to-face with a nightmare of a different sort.

Standing before her was Princess Aurora, and she looked as if her world had just shattered into pieces.

 _Oh,_ Maleficent thought then. _Oh, no._


	12. A Prophecy Fulfilled

** AURORA'S POV **

_"You dared to cast a curse on my own daughter, knowing that she would succumb to a death-like sleep if we kept her close to our hearts, here in the castle."_

The king's words rang hollowly in her ears, and Aurora stumbled away from the door. She saw Maleficent standing there in all her unbridled power, green energy igniting her eyes and swarming around the tips of her fingers, her body poised to attack. She was frozen though, and Aurora could guess why. _Godmother never meant for me to know this,_ she thought, heart pounding.

It was difficult to process so much new information, but Aurora had always been quick to adapt. _I am cursed._

She glanced about the Honorable Audience Chamber, staring back at all the eyes stuck on her, and repeated the horrific sentiment: _I am cursed._

_A death-like sleep,_ the king said. _But whatever is the reason?_ Aurora shook her head, blinking rapidly as if something had struck her eye.

Maleficent whispered her name, but Aurora's throat was tight and her body was shaking all over, and she knew that if the dark fairy queen tried to come any closer Aurora would be unable to stand it. She would flee.

Her head hurt horribly. The phrase _death-like sleep_ kept ringing in her mind like an alarm bell. Did that mean she'd truly be dead, even if she only appeared to be asleep? It was all so confusing. She was, however, incredibly hurt, and that was the most important thing. She was _so_ hurt that there was a new hollowness in her chest unlike anything she'd ever felt. It bordered on physically painful. 

But she finally found her voice. 

"Why did you keep this from me?" Aurora whispered, and was ashamed to hear the agony in her words. This was betrayal, she knew. For the first time in her life, she was experiencing complete and utter betrayal. The fact that it was by a close friend, one she considered a mother figure, made everything far worse.

Maleficent shook her head, denying, denying, denying, and turned her back on the room full of soldiers. "Your safety," the fairy queen blurted. "I only had your safety and well-being in mind, Aurora, you must understand th–"

" _Do you mean to kill me?_ " It was a screech, and some of the king's soldiers, poised on the brink of war, winced.

"Do I…" Maleficent's voice trailed off even as her eyes widened in surprise. In truth, this had been her goal in the beginning, yes. But so many years had passed since she had proclaimed she would eventually destroy the princess that hearing the threat spoken aloud was…startling. _The old me,_ Maleficent thought, panicking. _That was the old me. I don't want to harm this girl, not anymore, and surely she'll see that…_

Aurora's lips trembled. "You _do_ , you mean to kill me!" she said in a high, thin voice. She was breathing very quickly now. "That's what the king said, isn't it? That's what my…my _father_ said?" 

The notion was still bewildering, but Aurora had managed to work it all out in her mind. She still wasn't entirely sure how she could be the daughter of this madman, and therefore royalty--and not only _that_ , but the next in line for the throne of the human kingdom--but she felt strangely certain that he was telling the truth. Something about it felt right.

Even if nothing else did.

"Aurora," Maleficent said, her voice very faint. "You must understand that I-–"

"No!" she yelled. "No, I must understand _nothing_! I don't want to hear your excuses. You lied to me," she said, and then, softly, "You _tricked_ me."

Maleficent glanced about the room helplessly. Everything was unraveling, and she was afraid what this would mean in the coming minutes. "Aurora, if you would just-–"

Aurora tripped over her feet and nearly overbalanced as she scrambled away from the door and the woman just inside. "You aren't my godmother. You aren't even a nice person." Her lips firmed into a hard, unforgiving line. "You're the Mistress of Evil--I know that's what they call you! I'm not completely blind, you know." 

She was angry now, though she had no idea where the rage was coming from. She felt afraid and betrayed, and even miserable, but this tidal wave of anger felt good too. It took away some of the pain building inside her like a tsunami.

Maleficent would not beg--not now, in front of all these men, especially not in front of Stefan. But she sensed that nothing short of getting down on her knees and pleading with her little princess would restore her wrongs to rights. "I-–"

"NO!" Aurora cried, and, whirling, she fled the room with the intention of fleeing the castle.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
MALEFICENT'S POV   
**

She felt unbearably weak in the knees. Aurora was leaving, fleeing as if her life depended on it, and Maleficent knew this was entirely her fault. She should have come clean upon first encountering the princess. Not when she was a mere babe, perhaps--she wouldn't have understood then--but telling her when she was just beginning to bloom would have made a difference. A pre-teen, an adolescent. If Maleficent had explained patiently, thoroughly, about the curse and why she'd cast it, then maybe…maybe…

But Maleficent knew that none of that mattered now. What's done was done for good. She was the villain, just as she'd always been. That seemed to be an unchanging aspect of her life. Changing Aurora's mind at this point would be next to impossible. In her eyes, she had been deceived--tricked, in Aurora's own words--for too long and in such a way that would be virtually unforgivable. 

_My sweet beastie,_ she thought tiredly, as the men around her shook off their temporary stupor. _I have destroyed your trust, and I fear that will destroy_ you.

For the princess was loose in the castle, and that could only mean one thing: the curse was already unraveling.

Maleficent glanced about her, knowing she must escape before Stefan's troops attacked. They still seemed to be reeling from Aurora's presence. But it was interesting to see that Stefan was the least bothered by the return of his only child and heir. Maleficent took a step forward, thinking that she must grab Aurora and bring her back to the Moors, even if she fought with all her will, but no sooner had she taken this step and made these plans than Stefan raised his hand and his soldiers responded, tightening their formation.

"I have guessed your intentions, Maleficent," the king said, staring her down disdainfully. "You will not touch my daughter." Signaling with the same raised hand he'd used to draw the soldiers' attention, he stepped back…and the men stormed forward.

Maleficent's concern for Aurora was instantly lost. Her guilt over inflicting such a curse upon the world was lost. Her fear of the iron weapons directed her way, intent on piercing her flesh, was lost. Even her volcanic fury towards Diaval--for who else could have brought the princess all this way without encountering their enemies?--was lost, or at least put aside for the time being. Armor clanged and shields were brought up in unison, and as the iron-tipped spear points descended, Maleficent let all her self-imposed barriers fall away.

No longer was she afraid. No longer would she hold back. Her power burst from her like water from a broken dam. Slick green tendrils struck out at the weak spots exposed beneath the jagged metal helmets on the soldiers' heads. She felt the warm blood pulsing in the base of their throats, and she knew that the slightest bit of pressure against their tender flesh would make the blood gush in waves from their bodies. She might kill them without them even knowing, so determined was she to get out of this alive.

But she did not do that. Instead, she shoved the first couple of rows of men back, waving a sleeping spell over them. They would wake up when the battle was over; whether it be minutes or decades from now. It didn't matter. The lasting effect of these novice spells was the least of her concerns. 

Maleficent tossed several soldiers into the air, her fingers twitching as she did so; there was no breathing room, she'd realized as the men surged forward, and if there was no room to breathe there was no room to observe, to strategize, to _fight_. Without her wings she had no choice but to fight hand-to-hand and with magic. There was no way to escape into the clouds--the only option left to her was to use her fists and hope her magic was enough.

The men were swarming over her like ants on a newly built anthill, and it was all she could do to toss some aside whilst casting harmless but long-lasting spells over her shoulder and keeping an eye on the king himself. He was the most unpredictable of them all. The men were just following orders, after all. The king surely had his own agenda where she was concerned, and no doubt it was sinister.

As she whipped her staff around her head, creating a magic sphere ten feet in diameter, Maleficent caught a glimpse of black hair and faded scars. Her heart plunged within her chest, even as she blocked a spear tip from ripping into the skin above her elbow. She hissed as the bottom of a shield glanced off the back of her shoulder, but maintained her stance. At this point, a single faltering step could result in her demise.

"Diaval!" she called, trying to keep her fury towards him at bay. "Go after Aurora. _Protect the princess!_ " Her words came out more breathless than she would've liked, but she knew that Diaval would not hear that over the sound of battle. And if he did, he was paying far too much attention to her.

Her raven, who had just flung aside a rouge soldier who'd spotted the curious man in black, snapped his dark eyes up to her face. He could tell that she was dead serious. Strain was starting to show in her eyes, and Diaval _could_ hear the breathless nature of her words. He glanced towards the open door of the Honorable Audience Chamber, and then back at Maleficent.

"I will not go, Maleficent," he called out, tripping yet another soldier who had spotted him. "You need me here."

She did not deny this. However-– "The princess needs you more! Do not argue with me, Diaval!"

But he had already made up his mind. He wouldn't leave her like this. Not for the princess, not for the safety of the Moors, not for anything. She was struggling, and he would rather rot in the deepest circle of hell rather than abandon her now.

" _Diaval!_ " she screeched, even as she registered the set of his face and the tight stance of his body. He was refusing to leave, and she cried out in anger as she swiped aside two men wielding an anvil twice their size. The _audacity_!

Just as she was bringing up a hand to block the relentless jabbing of another spear, Maleficent caught sight of a dark force hurtling straight towards her. She barely managed to flinch out of the way before the iron-coated chain whipped by her. The tail end smacked sharply across her face, burning away the soft skin of her cheek. Diaval roared wordlessly. 

Maleficent drew in a breath at the sudden pain and staggered back a few steps. Her eyes roved in the direction of the dais. The source of her pain stood there in layer upon layer of armor, mace in hand. There were coils of more iron-coated chain attached to his side, and several daggers with iron embedded in the blades shone smartly above his heavy boots.

The soldiers moved aside as their king stepped down from the dais.

"You must be vanquished," King Stefan growled, his voice echoing strangely through his helmet and around the large audience chamber. "There can be no other outcome, _Maleficent_." He spat her name as if he spoke of the devil himself.

"You mustn't dawdle, Stefan," she replied, all too conscious of the men around her. They could be on her in a heartbeat; the only thing keeping them at bay was the king. She shifted, fluttering her fingers impatiently. "If you mean to attack, why, you must _attack_."

She was taunting him now, and although very unwise, she knew the king's ego was far too large to let a comment like this slide by. He had proven time and time again how capable he was of maintaining his position as king of the humans, and yes, his years (and mind) had been plagued by madness, but he still had a bit of that old competitiveness in him.

Stefan raised a gloved fist, eyes blazing. "Then we shall delay no longer. For the land will prosper once we rid it of this menace."

And with that, he lunged for her.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
AURORA'S POV   
**

The princess came upon a solid oak door at the outer reaches of the castle. There was nothing particularly special or even noticeable about the door, yet she felt drawn to it anyway. 

The cold metal handle sent icy spikes through her chest. Even as she carefully pushed the door open, a cold paralysis began to take over. Aurora had a bad feeling about what was going to happen next, but her legs wouldn't stop moving, and her mind was focused only on seeking…something…out.

As the room came into view, the princess saw that it was dark and cavernous, and filled with wooden structures that looked as if they'd been destroyed in a fire--or a whole bunch of fires. A faint, lingering scent of smoke hung in the air, and a thin layer of ash lay across the floor. Her footsteps rang hollowly throughout the room, and the sound was so lonely that she couldn't repress a shudder of dread.

But her legs propelled her slowly, inexorably on.

Until she reached the back of the room.

Not the very back, but near enough that the little window hanging high on the wall shed just the smallest sliver of light over her slippers. Aurora blinked dazedly, even as her senses sharped on the partially-destroyed object in front of her. There was something oddly familiar about it, but not in a way that meant she'd seen it before. It was more like she'd been looking for this…object, this _thing_ , all her life, and only now had she finally stumbled across it. There wasn't anything especially interesting about it. If anything, the object emitted a slight sense of foreboding, and that only made her want to put as much distance as possible between her and this room.

But again, that surreal feeling washed over her, and Aurora somehow knew that she was going to touch this burned artifact no matter what. Nothing but the end of the world would make her leave this room without coming into contact with it.

Aurora licked her lips and stepped forward, her vision swimming with dots of color. As she did, familiar green magic swirled up from the floor and encompassed the broken structure, momentarily hiding it from view. She stood there patiently until the magic evaporated, revealing a gleaming new spinning wheel. The sharpest, shiniest needle protruded from one end, and Aurora couldn't help but stare in wonder. She had never seen anything quite so beautiful and deadly.

Reaching forward, Aurora lifted an outstretched finger, wanting to touch the tip of the needle. She felt as if she'd been put under a spell of some sort (and why did that set off alarm bells?). She moved sluggishly, like the air had somehow been replaced with sweet molasses.

Swallowing her fear (because something was wrong, something was _terribly_ wrong), Aurora pushed down on the very tip of the spinning wheel's needle and felt her skin break. She kept pushing for a few extra seconds, harder and harder, until the dots swarming her vision almost took over and reduced her to sightlessness.

Reeling back in slow motion, Aurora let a gasp burst from her lips...

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
MALEFICENT'S POV   
**

There was a curious sensation in her arm. 

The tingling, for that was what it was, spread in a matter of seconds, and then all at once, as King Stefan swung a thick-handled sword blade at her neck. One second she was fighting with everything she had, blocking the king's every blow and dishing out a few counterattacks of her own, and the next thing she knew her whole body was ablaze.

Fire surged through her veins, igniting her blood and body. Her eyes widened as the fire swirled into her pupils. The king's sword was still coming, and Maleficent wondered how that could be when the world was tilting on its side. But she flung out a hand and deflected the weapon, sending it across the room and through a soldier's heart. He sunk to the floor, eyes bulging. 

The king roared and thrust a pair of spikes at her, but Maleficent glided out of the way with plenty of time to spare. She suddenly seemed to have more than enough time and energy to fight this battle. The fire surging within her veins wasn't harmful or agonizing--no, it was _powerful._ Maleficent felt alive, truly awake for the first time in years.

She felt invincible.

A niggling little voice in the back of her head kept asking with more and more insistence what might be the cause of this fiery power, and as Maleficent flung the spikes back at the king and sent her magic into the ceiling, causing dirt and mortar and bricks to crumble on the heads of the king's soldiers, she knew that the answer was not going to be to her liking. But she wanted to concentrate on this power, on the invigorating sense that she was invulnerable.

Just as she tossed the king back into a pillar of stone, forcing the breath from his withering body, Maleficent's back arched and a gasp exploded from her chest. She could see with a clear eye the sheen of sunlight on a needle, the gleam of metal, the deadly point that could pierce through flesh and bone alike. She saw a bead of red liquid-- _Blood? No, not blood, impossible,_ she told herself in a panic) slide down towards the base of the needle, and Maleficent let out an agonized scream. She fell to her knees right as a haphazardly-thrown spinning knife flew over her head.

_"AURORA!"_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
AURORA'S POV   
**

Her body lost all sense of feeling all at once, and she dropped to the floor as if her very bones had been sucked out of her body. A meaty smack met her ears as her face collided with the solid concrete floor, and she felt her nose and several bones in her cheeks snap. It wasn't even a moment later that a surge of blood came gushing out, spreading in a sickly wave over the floor.

Aurora felt more disoriented than ever, and a few more dots swarmed her vision, blacking out the rest of the world. She panicked for a moment, feeling helpless and blind, but the amount of energy needed to feel those kinds of emotions had vanished as well. 

The princess lay on the floor, her pulse beating faintly in her temples.

Her breathing was slowing, becoming more and more shallow, and even her heartbeats thumped unevenly, as if she were preparing to sleep for a very long time, as if she were already falling into…

_A death-like sleep._

Ah. The words made sense now.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
MALEFICENT'S POV   
**

Maleficent, battered and broken and nearing the limits of her power, sat on the floor, her knees trembling beneath her. Every part of her was weak, overwhelmed by pain, but everything had become so much worse once she realized just where this surge of power was coming from.

"Oh, Aurora, no," she moaned softly, eyes flickering with pain.

_She has touched a spinning needle. All is lost._

A loud, keening noise erupted from deep within Maleficent's chest, and she curled her body inward, bracing herself against the pain. Flashes of precious moments spent with Aurora--within the Tangible Forest, just beyond the Wall of Thorns, and in the meadowlands right outside Aurora's home--whirled through Maleficent's mind. An explosion of loss and agony turned the darkness behind her eyelids a brilliant white. Everything hurt. She could scarcely breathe.

Somewhere deep inside her, beyond the pain, Maleficent's brain was scrambling for a solution. There must be something she could do. She couldn't admit defeat, not when she'd gone all these years thinking that she could find a way around that blasted curse. It wasn't in her nature to succumb or submit.

"Aurora," she huffed again, clutching her chest with shaky hands. "This will _not_ be the end."

Struggling to her feet, Maleficent cast her eyes to the ceiling and, without knowing what she was planning to do, threw back her arms and called out, " _I revoke the curse! I revoke the curse! Let it be known that I revoke the curse and place myself in the path of eternal sleep instead! I call the curse to me, into me, around my very essence! I revoke the curse! I REVOKE THE CURSE AND ACCEPT THE DARKNESS THAT IS TO COME!"_

The desperation in her voice was unmistakable, and all who were within the Honorable Audience Chamber could hear it. 

Diaval's eyes widened, even as he took a step back. The soldiers who were still alive fell to their knees, unable to maintain their balance. A surge of green energy emanated from Maleficent herself, and the land shuddered with the pure power behind her desperate call. 

The Wall of Thorns trembled, and many of the vines and thorn branches that made up the massive structure withered and fell away, disintegrating into the breeze like so much sand. The folk within the human kingdom and the creatures within the Moors both looked toward the sky, afraid that some evil force had been awakened in the thunderous clouds looming over the land.

Maleficent screamed as some malicious force completely different from any she had ever encountered pierced her body. She felt as if she were being torn apart by needles and animal claws and iron weapons all at once. Her green energy expanded until it filled the entire castle. A loud clap of thunder boomed down from the heavens, eliciting more than a few dozen screams of terror from the king's folk, and a glistening streak of lightning struck the tallest tower of the castle. The soldiers who remained on their feet covered their eyes against the eye-rending light, as did Diaval, who wished nothing more at that moment to be at Maleficent's side.

The seconds following this commotion were fraught with a dreadful silence so penetrating that several soldiers began tearing at their ears and arms in hopes of finding a way out of such a damning quiet. 

But then, all at once, noise flooded back in, and the soldiers were restored to their former states of mind. Diaval opened his eyes and looked about him. The King, breathing raggedly from his numerous wounds, squinted as if searching for something through a dense fog.

And then several things unfolded at once.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
DIAVAL'S POV   
**

A heavy weight lifted from his shoulders, one he had never been aware of holding. He found himself on his feet and staring at his hands. They were unscarred, as were his chest and face.

A single, sibilant voice whispered, _You have been liberated, unbound, released. You are liberated._

And for the first time in decades, he was free.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
MALEFICENT'S POV   
**

She fell, and from a vast distance that stretched eons, felt herself soundlessly hit the floor.

But some other part of her kept falling.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
AURORA'S POV   
**

Within the smoke-filled room, now empty and cavernous once more, the princess's eyes snapped open, and she breathed.


	13. A Death-Like Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left kudos and/or comments!! This story will be wrapping up this week, so look out for more updates :)

In a land far, far away, a young girl awakens and finds her finger bleeding. In a chamber several floors up, a young raven-haired man is restored to himself. A dozen yards from him, a beautiful woman falls to the floor in a dead faint, her voluminous black robes swirling out around her.

And looming over her is a king with a red, red smile.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
DIAVAL'S POV   
**

The king grinned and rose up off his knees. All along his body, armor clattered against armor. He was shaking so badly that Diaval was sure he would collapse, but apparently Stefan's determination far outweighed the pain he was experiencing. He staggered to Maleficent's side and hovered above her, a broken sword (not his own) in hand. That ugly smirk was still stretched across his lips, and Diaval felt a surge of pure hatred for the man, even as he dimly, belatedly, registered that his mistress was no longer moving. Surely she was fine, surely those words she spoke had done nothing…

Yet as Stefan stood above her, grinning maliciously, Maleficent did not move, and Diaval knew that something had gone terribly wrong. Or had it gone terribly right?

"This creature of darkness, of terror, of evil, has fallen," King Stefan proclaimed. "She has been vanquished. _She is no more!_ " Breathing heavily, he added, "Let it be known throughout all the ages that it was I, King Stefan the First, who rid the world of this atrocity."

The king tried to raise his sword, but something seemed wrong with his arm. He overbalanced and went down hard on his side. A bone snapped somewhere in his shoulder, and a wail pierced the otherwise silent room. He was still breathing with great effort, but now there was an added noise to the rasp of his lungs, a thick, phlegmy coughing.

"I want-–" he tried, but the rest of his words were lost in a second fit of coughing. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth and down his neck. He gasped, a shaking hand reaching out for someone who wasn't there, and started to convulse.

It was then that Diaval noticed the dozen puncture wounds in his torso. The wounds looked deep--they undoubtedly cut all the way down to the bone--and a thick, black flow of blood was spilling from them. Whatever terrible thing had happened to him, Diaval knew it was surely Maleficent's doing.

The king was dying.

Coughing…then convulsing…then falling limp…

And then, just like that, he was dead. The light blinked out of his eyes, and he was gone.

No one moved to assist him. The soldiers lining the room stared with dead eyes and dark circles beneath them, unmoved. No maid or healer ran into the room, frenzied with panic for their struggling king. Diaval watched with an indifference that frightened him. No, not just indifference--relief. He was glad to see the monstrous man go. Hopefully he was on his way to hell.

Diaval moved as if in a dream, his feet propelling him towards Maleficent. She lay on her back, eyes closed, pallor no paler than usual. He dropped to his knees beside her, feeling for a pulse. There was one, but faint, very faint. The breath rising from her lips was so scarce that it did not show up on a pane of glass when held close to her face, which he tried half a dozen times in the following days. Her chest was still.

And so she was not dead.

But neither was she strictly alive.

Diaval placed his forehead on her chest. "Please," he whispered. "Maleficent, please. _Awaken_."

But she did not.

"You cannot leave me," he said roughly when she failed to stir. "You cannot abandon when all is finally over. The king is dead. He cannot harm us any longer." His eyes frantically searched for any sign of life besides the barely-there pulse, but of course there wasn't one.

Desperate, Diaval clasped her cold face between his calloused hands. "Wake up, love! Maleficent, _you must wake up now_! Please, I beg of you! We have won, it is over, _we are safe_. Please, Maleficent."

He did not notice the tears on his face until Aurora placed a soft hand on his shoulder.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
MALEFICENT'S POV   
**

His hands were small, but not as small as hers.

There was a crease running in a zigzag pattern in the middle of his palm, a crease that was more prominent than all the others--and there were plenty. She ran her fingers over this crease, hypnotized. She had never noticed this small indentation in his skin before.

"Do they pass inspection?" he teased, watching her while she examined his hands. He was nervous, for whatever reason.

A young Maleficent smiled. "Of course. They pass with flying colors." She dropped his hands and stepped away. "They're very pretty, they are."

Stefan's eyes widened. "Pretty? A man's hands shouldn't be _pretty_ , Maleficent."

"Whyever not?" she inquired, spotting a patch of blue lilies at the base of a giant cherry tree.

"It is insulting. Men's hands should be rough and callused and…and dangerous!"

"Dangerous!" she exclaimed, picking half a dozen lilies. "Hands themselves can't be dangerous, Stefan, whether they're on a man or otherwise. That's silly."

Stefan's eyes narrowed as she tucked her small bouquet close to her chest. "You just don't understand. You live in the magical Moors. There aren't any men here."

"You're right," she agreed. "There are centaurs and woodland animals and giant tree warriors. They are all very _dangerous_ ," she added teasingly.

"Indeed," he replied, missing her sarcasm entirely. "I bet you would never dare call a tree warrior pretty."

"On that score, you are wrong, dear Stefan. Tree warriors are actually quite elegant."

Stefan huffed and rolled his eyes, deciding to drop the subject. For now, at least. He might bring it up again when she was less prepared to argue.

"Why are you collecting all those flowers?" he asked curiously.

She shrugged. "I enjoy looking at them, and I don't want to leave them behind when we move on. Heaven knows when we'll see this meadow again." Stefan did enjoy visiting a new area of the Moors every day. He was easily entertained, and yet quickly bored.

"Come along," Maleficent said, extending a hand to Stefan. He grabbed it willingly, noticing the twinkle in her eyes. He followed a step behind, wondering where she was going to lead him next.

He would always follow her.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm afraid those aren't quite what I had in mind," Maleficent said, gazing at the princess with humor in her eyes.

"They aren't?" Aurora pouted and placed her chubby seven-year-old hands on her hips. "But I thought they were wonderful!"

"They are indeed," Maleficent admitted, "but we're looking for leaves, Aurora, remember? Not flowers."

The princess grumbled, but as she ran off in search of the finest leaves nature had to offer, she cast a smile over her shoulder, one that would remain in Maleficent's mind for years to come. It was pure, and innocent, and happy.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

" _Raise your weapon!_ "

Maleficent paused and glanced at Diaval. She gave him a look.

"Too much?"

"Too much. And 'weapon' isn't the term I'd use. 'Advantage' fits better. More appropriate, is it not?"

"Raise your…advantage?" Diaval grimaced. "That doesn't sound as threatening."

"Maybe not. You'll just have to reword your battle cry." Maleficent refrained from rolling her eyes, though she dearly wanted to. They were supposed to be training, and yet all they'd managed to accomplish was the renaming of every action Maleficent tried to take. And she'd tried to take _many_ , with little success.

"Aren't you weary yet?" Diaval asked. He wiped sweat from his brow and plopped down on the soft grass.

"Not even close. We've barely started, Diaval."

Now Diaval gave _her_ a look. "We've been at it for over three hours now."

Maleficent shrugged, nonplussed. "I must train. Usually I would do such an activity in my own time, but since you offered to supervise and provide feedback on my techniques, I assumed you really wanted to help. Assumed, Diaval."

"I do, don't get me wrong, but this is frankly…too taxing."

"Diaval, need I remind you that _I'm_ the one who has been practicing, not you?"

Her raven looked away, though there was a smile on his lips. "Yes, yes, I'm well aware. Of course, supervising is equally hard work, you know."

"But of course." Maleficent sighed and pulled her green energy within her. There would be many more opportunities to train, and she needed every one of them. Right now, however, she figured she'd better take a break before Diaval's head popped off.

"Are you afraid to face the king?"

"Not particularly," she replied, lying only a little.

"Then you have no need to practice as much as you are." Diaval cast a sideways glance her way, eyeing her sunken eyes and unhappy frown.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you? There is always room for improvement."

Diaval did not answer, and so they sat in silence for a good long while.

Quietly, Diaval asked again, "You are not afraid?"

This time, Maleficent was slow in answering. "Not as I should be, no."

He turned towards her. "What do you mean by that?"

She sighed. "I mean that I am more afraid of what shall happen to you and Aurora should I fail to overthrown Stefan. I will most likely be executed immediately, if I am not killed in the battle. What he will do with you, I cannot imagine. And Aurora…she does not know him. Under his guidance, I fear she will become corrupt."

"And crazy," Diaval muttered, picking at the grass.

"He is haunted by his own terrors and sees a threat around every corner. That is paranoia, not insanity. There's a difference."

"Not a distinct one."

Maleficent was growing faintly annoyed with these questions. "Why do you care?" she asked bluntly.

"No reason, mistress," he said, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I said never to call me that again, Diaval. Has something hampered your already poor memory?"

He was used to her teasing him in such a way, and so responded appropriately. "Not that I recall."

She smiled, as Diaval knew she would.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Have you ever been in love?" Aurora asked suddenly. She was fifteen now.

Maleficent was surprised. "What an odd question."

Aurora frowned. "That's not an answer."

"Indeed."

The princess laughed. "Come now, Maleficent! I know you too well. Your evasiveness is wasted on me."

"Very well," Maleficent sighed, gazing out at the meadowlands. The winds were picking up. There would be a storm soon. "I thought I was in love once, but now I am not so sure."

The princess cocked her head, intrigued. "What happened?"

"He deceived me."

"In what way?"

"He acted a friend and then, when my back was turned and my attention diverted, he took something very precious to me."

"Oh, my," Aurora gasped softly. "Did you suspect him of something so evil?"

"Never," she answered at once. "Looking back, it is difficult to see whether he loved me, or even liked me, at all. I was young, and therefore a fool. All the young are fools, you see."

"Ah, yes," Aurora said sagely, then grinned. "If I may ask…what did he take from you?"

Maleficent glanced down at the princess, blue eyes shining curiously. The wind stirred her hair, blowing it out behind her in shimmery waves. "We'll leave that for another day, my dear beastie. What he took is of little consequence now. _How_ he took it is the real treason."

Aurora, sensing her godmother's discomfort, said softly, "I'm very sorry. That's a terrible thing to do to someone."

"Yes, it is," Maleficent said, smiling sadly. "Pray you never encounter any false friends in your life."

"Oh, I know I won't! Everyone I meet shall be true and friendly and open-hearted!" With that, Aurora leaped up and went twirling through the long yellow grass, exclaiming over a cloud of orange and blue butterflies hovering nearby.

"You should only hope." Maleficent gathered up her robes and went to find Diaval.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her raven laughed, openly and loudly and with reckless abandon, and Maleficent felt joy expand in her chest. She was blushing, for he was laughing at something she'd said.

Diaval's smile was radiant, and she wondered quietly if it would take a great amount of effort to turn that smile her way. If it would take a great amount of effort to _keep_ it there. On her.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aurora ran wildly, a gazelle with sunlit hair and sky eyes, leaping over streams and flowers and bushes, her arms outstretched, as if she could encompass the world, and would.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was a little girl who could fly, and he was a little boy who could make even the simplest tasks clever and interesting.

Maleficent thought they would be together for the rest of their lives.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The young fairy watched as a male centaur howled at the dusky sky. His mate had fallen asleep and refused to wake up.

She wondered what that was like, to slip away quietly, with only dreams for company.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Maleficent," they whispered. But she did not answer, for their words were fear, and she its cause.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
DIAVAL'S POV   
**

He refused to leave her bedside, even to use the bathroom. They were instructed to bring a bedpan for him every day, but he never used it, for he neither drank nor ate. His eyes ached from staring at her, waiting and watching for a flicker of life, a sign of hope. The room was dim, lit only by two scentless candles standing vigil on the two side tables flanking her bed.

It had been seven days since Maleficent left him, and it had been seven days since Diaval had seen the outside world and what was to become of it.

Sometimes time passed slowly, and other times hours were seconds. Diaval could rarely tell the difference, and he didn't much care. But every day that passed was a day that Maleficent missed, and Diaval felt hope slip further from his grasp.

He spoke to her all the time, and he also tried to touch her when no one was around, which thankfully was not often. Aurora had demanded that Diaval be left alone with Maleficent at all costs, except for when more unwanted food was to be delivered and when the barely touched bedpan needed to be taken away. The princess was now too busy being the Queen and uniting the realms, but Diaval knew she was just as worried. She fortunately had tasks to accomplish to take her mind off the fear that infused their every breath.

The fear that Maleficent would never wake.

Diaval knew that she had made an enormous sacrifice in calling the curse upon herself, freeing Aurora from an eternity of endless sleep, but in doing so she had rendered the Moors guideless. Now the magical realm was in an uproar, and yet it was still nothing compared to the human kingdom. Their monarch had been killed in battle, and they were hesitant in installing Aurora, the rightful heir, in his place. She was a woman, after all, and a recently discovered heir at that. The people did not see her as particularly trustworthy, not after suffering for so long under Stefan's tyranny.

Diaval paid minimal attention to these troubles, expansive and imminent though they were. He knew Aurora was doing everything in her power to unite the realms and restore the castle to its former glory, and that was good enough for him. His more pressing concerns lay with Maleficent and her unresponsiveness. Although her cuts and bruises and slightly more sinister wounds had long past healed (with a bit of magic, of course), she still seemed totally and completely lifeless.

His heart ached every time he noticed the deathly pallor of her skin, and although she had become quite skilled throughout the years at remaining motionless and therefore nearly invisible, this kind of stillness was unsettling. It was the stillness of the dead.

Diaval had shamelessly pleaded with her to wake up, begged, swore, and even growled at her, though in no more than a harsh whisper. He'd threatened to leave her on more than one occasion, but anyone, living or dead, could plainly see that the world would freeze over before that happened.

He talked about the subtle improvements already being made under Aurora's influence. How the taxes on food had substantially decreased, how the never-ending gloom that had permeated the kingdom for decades was at last rising, leaving behind sunlight and balmy weather where there once was freezing temperatures and an unchanging darkness, and best of all, how a Council of Wisdom was being assembled. 

This Council would consist of three commonfolk of respectable natures and differing statuses, two lords from outlying lands who were known for their reasonableness and modest temperaments, and Aurora herself. The princess-- _Queen now,_ Diaval reminded himself--had even suggested that, if and when Maleficent awakened, she might be interested in claiming a seat, but Diaval had declined immediately in her place. Maleficent wasn't one for rules, much less enforcing them.

While all of this was going on, Maleficent's bedchamber and the woman herself remained unchanged. The world within the small room had come to a standstill, and time ceased to matter. All Diaval could do was hope, and pray fervently to the gods, and cling to Maleficent's cold hand.

The afternoon of the seventh day unfolded like all the others. A freckled maid hurried to and fro, the only servant in the whole castle allowed near the slumbering fairy queen; she was known for her absolute discretion. Diaval, having pulled a cushioned chair across the room, sat quietly at her bedside, book in hand. Though the book was a fairly interesting compilation of the history of all the previous kings whose ruling years had been successful, Diaval could not focus on more than a single sentence at a time. There was something different about the room today.

For once, the air was fresh and pleasantly breathable. Since the thick, tapestried curtains had been parted, the room was filled with late afternoon sunlight. The castle, formerly quiet and solemn as a mausoleum, sang with loud voices and the clattering noise of furniture being moved out and brought in. The castle had been undergoing some major renovations for the last two days, and it sounded like everyone who worked and lived within it was taking part--and having a wonderful time. The laughter and pleasant chatter was foreign, but entirely welcome. Aurora's reign was clearly off to a good start, despite the commonfolk's initial reticence.

Tapping his foot, Diaval placed his book aside and ran a weary hand over his face. The days were not quite as long as they once seemed in the early days of Maleficent's slumber, but the nights now seemed twice as long. Diaval despised being left alone with his own thoughts at night, not just because there was a morose sheen to them, but because the horrible thoughts wouldn't stop until dawn. The dark was a catalyst for all the nightmarish thoughts he dare not think during the daylight hours. Today, there was still a good amount of time until sunset, but with nothing to occupy his mind, he was already dreading nightfall.

Diaval sighed and stood up to stretch his muscles, and that was when he heard the door handle rattle. Startled (for the maid wasn't supposed to return for another two hours), Diaval straightened and peered across the room.

"I thought I'd find you here," Aurora teased, knowing well enough that he would never venture further than this room while Maleficent remained prone and vulnerable.

Diaval relaxed, though he was confused. "Welcome, Your Majesty," he said, bowing slightly.

She rolled her eyes.

"Aurora," he amended, smiling. "You were right in assuming I'd be here. You're very clever."

"And you're obviously sleep-deprived, for you would never offer such a compliment so early in the conversation," she replied, entering the room. It was true; they usually liked to banter a bit before conceding a point.

He sighed. "You guess right. Again. I am very tired."

"You should really get some sleep, Diaval. Take a nap, if only for an hour or two. You'll only be in the next room, and guards will be posted outside the doors for as long as it takes for you to return. You needn't worry about her safety," Aurora added softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. She knew just how much her fairy godmother had come to mean to him. His love wasn't hard to see; it was in the way he looked at her, and he looked at her often.

"You know I can't," he said, his eyes on Maleficent. "If she awakens and I'm not here…."

The chance of that happening was very slim, but Aurora would never say that. "Of course. I understand. It's just…I'm sure she wouldn't want you to harm yourself like this. You know she would beat you over the head with that staff of hers for acting such an imbecile."

He smiled, but only a little. "Indeed. I can picture it now." The smile dropped from his lips, and for a few minutes he and the Queen stood in silence, gazing down at the unconscious fairy with somber eyes.

"Aren't you busy with other matters, my queen?" Diaval asked, clearing his throat.

"Not for the rest of the day. I cleared my schedule." She frowned. "Something told me I should visit today."

First the room, and now Aurora, Diaval thought, wondering what this meant. Were the gods trying to tell them something?

"If only she would wake," she whispered. "My heart would finally stop galloping like it means to run away."

"She is strong, but I fear this curse will not be undone," Diaval said in a steady voice. It was becoming easier to believe this the longer it proved true.

Aurora turned and gripped his arm. "You mustn't give up hope, Diaval! Anything but that." There were tears in her eyes.

He swallowed. "Never. I will never allow myself to think her…gone."

Aurora shuddered and released his arm, and then she seemed to waver for a moment before finally stepping towards the bed. She placed a gentle hand on Maleficent's forehead. "Still so cold."

Diaval walked around the bed to the opposite side and stood there, brooding. "Her skin was never particularly warm."

"But never was it this cold before, either. Have you called for a doctor?"

He shook his head. "No. You and I both know there's nothing any doctor or healer could do."

Aurora opened her mouth, but nothing came out. He was right. Her fingers slipped from Maleficent's forehead and latched onto her cold hand. She squeezed it frightfully hard as tears slipped down her cheek. "This is agony," she whispered. "I go about my duties every day, but she is never far from my mind. I am always thinking about her, and what could possibly be going on behind those closed eyes."

"I wonder if she dreams."

"And if she does, of what?"

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
MALEFICENT'S POV  
**

The meadowlands were empty and gray and endless, but something was different. Something in the air.

Maleficent spent most of her time here, when she wasn't racing through memories, but never had she felt such an abrupt shift in the atmosphere. Everything _seemed_ normal, yet at the same time Maleficent knew that her entire world had shifted, if imperceptibly. 

The tall grasses and stumpy trees were slightly out of focus. The chirping of the birds was harmonious rather than clamorous. The sky was gray, but there were also hints of blue mixed within the leaden clouds. Maleficent wouldn't have noticed a thing except for that something different, that something subtle.

She raised her chin and inhaled deeply. _There!_ she thought triumphantly. On the very edges of the unending uniformity, of the seemingly unaffected landscape, there was something…

A touch of warmth.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
DIAVAL'S POV  
**

Tears were sliding down Aurora's face, and Diaval had to look away. 

It pained him too much to see her in pain, especially when it concerned Maleficent. He and his fairy had been struggling for so long to make everything right, and at every opportunity they'd been thwarted--first and foremost by King Stefan's relentless journey to destroy Maleficent, then by the confusion of his and Maleficent's relationship, and of course by Aurora's precarious position and safety throughout it all.

Diaval still couldn't believe that Maleficent assumed he'd harbored feelings for the princess. Of course, she was a ray of light, an unencumbered joy that made everything slightly less awful, but he would never feel anything more than friendship and allegiance to her. As he stared at Aurora now, sorrow written on her face and shining in her eyes, he only felt relief that she would save the realm.

He looked down at Maleficent and noticed that her lips were parted. _They weren't like that before,_ he thought, confused. Not even a moment ago did they look like that. He glanced up at the Queen, trying to discern if she'd noted the difference too, but she was on the verge of sobbing, and he decided--no, she hadn't.

"Maleficent," he whispered softly, trailing a light finger down her cheek. She was cold, so very, very cold. He clenched his jaw as he felt tears prick his own eyes. "I would give anything for you to come back to us. You are strong enough to break free, I know you are."

"If you can hear me, either of us, please know that we love you, Maleficent, more than anything," Aurora gasped through another sob. Tears leaked down her face and onto the wrinkled duvet.

Diaval cupped Maleficent's face gently in his hands.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
MALEFICENT'S POV  
**

"You are strong enough," the dying fairy queen whispered hoarsely. "Believe that, my dear."

"I believe it," a young Maleficent said. She'd never thought that, at the age of six, she would become the next fairy queen of the Moors, but here she was, on the verge of her reign. 

"You are destined for greatness," Zenobia murmured, eyes heavy. "But before you can reach that fate, you must realize that to be strong, to be _great_ , you must first be free."

"I did not realize I was imprisoned."

Zenobia smiled, but it was such a sad smile that the leaves trembled on the trees around them. "Oh, my dear girl. You will learn. In time, you will learn to overcome your struggles. You will learn what it is to be free."

Maleficent laid a tiny hand over the old, wizened one.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
DIAVAL'S POV  
**

As Aurora sobbed, he leaned down close, placing his forehead on Maleficent's. She was cold here too, and the cold flooded into him. But instead of overwhelming him, the cold met his warmth, and they twined together.

He gasped at the sensation, staring at his mistress, his best friend, his perfect love. There was a rapid flickering beneath her eyelids. Diaval breathed deeply, savoring the mixture of hot and cold within him, and whispered…

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
MALEFICENT'S POV  
**

From dying lips, the last words of a fairy queen: " _Wake up._ "

Maleficent, young and old both, was ready. Just as Zenobia had demanded of her, she was going to break free.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
DIAVAL'S POV  
**

He brought their lips together.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**  
MALEFICENT'S POV  
**

Her heart was thundering. She could hear it quite suddenly, and it was _all_ she could hear. The gray world she'd been wandering through and the many memories and flashbacks that had swamped her for so long dissipated like so much fine mist. Colors swirled together into a kaleidoscope of meshed images and sounds and emotions.

A ripping sensation tore through her chest, and she gasped at the pain. The feeling was so vivid, so _there_ , compared to the hours and hours of emptiness, of numbness, that she had endured. Her heart took flight, and her mind raced to make sense of it all. _What's happening?_ she worried. _Am I finally dying?_ And then, with some relief: _Is it time?_

Dying wouldn't be so bad now, would it?

That touch of warmth she'd experienced earlier suddenly ignited again, but this time it was concentrated in one specific area: her right hand. It started in her fingertips and expanded, slowly, so slowly, down past her knuckles and over her palm. The heat was intense, but not unpleasant.

And then her lips ignited too.

They went from cold to hot so quickly that they instantly swelled. Maleficent swallowed and tried to pinpoint the cause of these intense sensations, but there was nothing there besides the swirl of colors and the distinct impression that she was passing through the air very quickly. It was all so abrupt, so different from the cold monotony, but something told her that this shift was good, that it was going to make things better, and then…

Her heart galloped, stilled, and seemed to roll over, and then her senses were being bombarded with reds and blues and greens, and sensation upon sensation, and a breathless, almost painful exhilaration, and the knowledge that she was close, so close, to breaking through a wall of impenetrability that had been there all her life and was only now, for the very first time, being breached.

And then…

_Light._


	14. Born To Fly

** MALEFICENT'S POV **

He was crying diamonds, and although her arm had taken on the weight of the world, Maleficent raised her hand and touched one.

It melted against her skin.

Diaval's breath stuttered, and his black eyes peered down into her own. They smoldered and shimmered, with pain and with fear, but there was something else in them now, something that was rapidly overtaking everything else: disbelief.

"Maleficent?" he whispered, so softly, as if the words themselves would break her to pieces.

"Wake up," she whispered back, hoarsely, and only after Zenobia's dying words were out of her mouth did she realize how inappropriate they sounded. Diaval would have no idea what she meant.

But he only said, "You are awake," and smiled such a joyful smile that she was momentarily blinded.

Then his lips were on hers, and it was all she could do to keep breathing.

Distantly, she felt someone take hold of her hand, and as Maleficent reluctantly broke away from Diaval, she finally registered the sobbing that must have started even before she'd fully awoken. There was really only one person it could be.

"My little beastie," she said softly, gazing at the beautiful, tear-streaked girl standing beside her. "Your tears are not welcome here."

Aurora sniffled and managed a weak laugh. "Of course that would be the first thing you'd say!"

"Yes, but it is true. I don't like this sadness I see; it's hovering all over you." This was disconcerting, to say the least. Her mind was still muddled, but not enough so that she couldn't sense that something was wrong.

Diaval was kissing her neck now, fervently, with shaky breaths, and Maleficent let herself relish in this for a moment. But only one.

With a hand on Diaval's chest, gently forcing him away, she asked, "What's happened?"

Aurora's brow furrowed. "Do you not remember? You've…"--and here she swallowed-– "…you've been asleep."

Maleficent did not dally with inconsequential questions. "For how long?"

"A week."

Her mouth twisted. "Have I been ill?"

Diaval finally raised his head from her chest, and he and the Queen shared a glance. They knew they must tread carefully now. Whatever was the cause of Maleficent's amnesia, they must take care to break the news gently.

"What do you remember?"

Maleficent swallowed. She had not missed their glance. Was something wrong with her? Why couldn't she remember? Whatever it was must be important, otherwise they would not have seemed so reluctant to speak. She sensed their trepidation, and it unsettled her.

"I remember…coming to the castle. To find you." She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, eyes widening ever-so-slightly. Fear. There was fear in her words. But why? "Why did I come? You were in trouble," she answered herself. "You're safe now?"

"Yes," Aurora said in a tremulous voice. "Because of you, Maleficent, I am safe. As is the kingdom. As is the Moors."

Those two words-- _Moors_ and _kingdom_ \--spoken in such a gentle tone, triggered something buried within her. Her muscles tensed as she was thrown back into memory: arriving at the castle, staff in hand, to find the king-- _King Stefan, your friend turned traitor,_ her mind whispered--and put an end to all the fighting. She had snuck past the guards and entered a grand room. The queen had been there-- _Is the woman dead? What has become of her?_ she wondered fleetingly-–and the king too, and they had bandied words…and then Aurora had come in and witnessed the truth, the truth that Maleficent had kept from her for so long. 

And they had fought. And the curse had started to unravel, despite all her attempts to stop it. And--

Maleficent gasped, sucking in air as if all this time she'd been on the brink of suffocation. "The curse," she whispered harshly. "I revoked the curse and took it upon myself instead." 

It all made sense now, and her memories flooded back with a vengeance. The king's terrible grin. The iron weapons on every side. Aurora's betrayed face. The green energy surging through her veins, singeing her blood. Her mind must've blocked the events to protect itself.

 _I'm wise even when I'm half-dead,_ she thought wryly.

"It's all right," Diaval soothed, clutching her hand firmly between both of his. "It's all over now. You've saved Aurora, and you've woken up now, so everything is fine."

"A week, you said?" _Seven days_ , when she was supposed to sleep for eternity. And those days had felt like nothing, like hours, like minutes.

"Yes. Aurora has seen to the kingdom's safety, and the Moors too. The soldiers have been dispatched to store away their weapons and dismantle the cannons. The White Inferno is being destroyed even as we speak."

Diaval's smile was genuine, but something he said sparked her intrigue. "Aurora has been in charge of things? Then…what of the king? The queen?"

Her raven's eyes dimmed slightly. "The king is dead. The queen has fallen ill in the wake of your confrontation with Stefan and is not expected to recover."

Maleficent absorbed and digested this in silence. She was glad that Stefan was dead, she would not deny that, but the queen's imminent demise left a bitter taste in her mouth. She had nothing against the woman, and she did not--and never had--found her to be a threat. Her only glaring flaw was in agreeing to marry a psychopath. But those things could be overlooked. Love blinded, after all.

Maleficent's eyes found Diaval's, and she gazed into them, sinking into their warm depths. At least she had him. Oh, yes, even though she had almost not been aware of it in time, at least she had him.

Her gaze flickered to Aurora, who still held her hand but stared out the far window, eyes curiously distant. She had not said much, even though it was she who ran the kingdoms now. She was a queen.

"Queen Aurora," she whispered, trying out the words, and her little beastie dipped her head to smile down at her.

"I'm all grown up now, I suppose." She seemed well, but there was a nostalgic look about her eyes. The days of happy innocence and careless frolicking in the icy waters of Symphony Stream were long gone. Maleficent returned her small smile.

"The kingdom is no longer in an uproar, but I still have far to go before I make any sort of lasting progress," Aurora continued. "The Moors has not been damaged in any way, but the creatures are still wary." She sighed tiredly. "I'm afraid my days will be filled with paperwork and hard decision-making instead of flower-picking."

"I'm afraid so," Maleficent echoed softly. "Tell me," she added, after a moment or two of silence, "do you like it?"

"Truthfully?" Aurora paused, and then a slow smile stretched across her face. "Oh, _very_ much. The people may not fully trust me yet, and I'm working my way through all the names and titles and how it all works here in the castle, but I really do like it. There's an air of importance here. You know that things get done." She looked down suddenly, blushing. "That all sounds rather foolish, you think. The ramblings of a young girl who doesn't know what she's in for."

"No," Maleficent said, grasping her hand tightly. She waited for Aurora to look up before she continued. "I think it's the ramblings of a new monarch, eager to take on the world."

Aurora's smile was bright enough to put the sun to shame.

"I think I ought to get up now, don't you agree?" So saying, Maleficent sat up--slowly though, for she was aware of just how precarious her physical condition was--and moved her legs so that they hung over the side of the bed. "I'm feeling quite rejuvenated."

Diaval helped her stand, although she seemed perfectly capable on her own. He couldn't help but touch her, and he was going to use any and all excuses to do so. Gripping her bare forearms, for her cloak had been removed and she had lain in her laundered battle clothes--black leather pants and a sturdy black shirt with pockets for hiding weapons-–Diaval gazed into Maleficent's eyes. Already, they were roiling with energy.

"I'm so glad you're…." He couldn't finish. There really wasn't a word for how glad he was to see her conscious again.

"I know," Maleficent said softly, for she did know. She could sense their relief, as well as the lingering pain that was just deep enough in their eyes to be concealed. "Everything could have gone so differently."

"It could have gone much worse," Diaval agreed, and he touched her cheek with a soft caress.

Maleficent, her heart beating erratically, swallowed. This wasn't something she was familiar with--the whole act of courting. She didn't usually like warm and fuzzy displays of affection or sentimental murmurings, but for some reason those rules didn't apply with Diaval. She wanted to touch him everywhere, and not for a moment did she wish to be alone. Not anymore.

Diaval leaned forward, ducking his head just slightly to meet her lips. They no more than whispered over hers when a loud throat-clearing interrupted them. Diaval jumped, blushing, but Maleficent merely tilted her head with a tiny sigh.

"I'm sure you two want to get on with your reunion," Aurora said, a little embarrassed, "but there's something I want to show Maleficent first. If you don't mind," she added. Maleficent thought it curious that, although Aurora was now a queen and was expected to utter commands instead of pleas, she still requested the presence of others politely and with room for negation. She was a queen, but she wouldn't be a domineering one, Maleficent noted with approval. 

"Of course," she replied, raising her eyebrows quizzically. With one last longing glance at Diaval, and a quick squeeze of his hand, she glided around him and walked in step with Aurora, who seemed…not quite impatient, but in rather a hurry nonetheless.

"May I ask where we're going, my queen?"

A smile twitched at the corners of Aurora's mouth. "Don't act the compliant servant with me, Godmother. It's very unflattering."

Maleficent sighed, but she warmly touched the girl's arm all the same.

They traversed up several flights of stairs, and although the climb seemed endless, they reached the top landing in less than ten minutes. Aurora, worried that her insistent pace had brought harm to Maleficent (who was secretly concentrating on breathing through her nose) touched her godmother's shoulder hesitantly.

"Are you well? I'm so sorry, Maleficent, forgive me, I was too wrapped up in my thoughts to see that you might-–"

But the fairy queen waved her off. "Nonsense. I'm fine. My muscles haven't been in use for a while, but this is hardly an arduous task. Now," she continued sternly, straightening up, "where are we and why have you brought me here?"

Aurora bit her lower lip, hands flexing at her sides. Maleficent could've sworn that the new queen was having trouble suppressing a grin. "Not yet, I can't tell you just yet! We're not quite there."

With another impatient gesture, Maleficent followed close behind Aurora as she walked the winding, cavernous hallways in the uppermost regions of the castle. There were many open spaces here, and the wind and smell of fresh flowers wafted through the corridors. The harsh stones and bricks that made up the castle were swathed in bright sunlight. 

Clearly, Aurora had been taking care of the castle as well as governing the kingdom; there was more natural light, brightly colored furnishings, and ringing laughter in this one moment than there had been in the entirety of King Stefan's reign. Everything was so light and airy; the atmosphere, the decorations, the people.

 _Such a difference a new monarch makes,_ Maleficent thought with a smile. _Such a difference_ Aurora _makes._

They finally came upon a heavy oak door with a metal knocker hanging dead-center. Aurora stopped before it and took a deep breath. She still seemed her normal, cheerful self, but there was an added layer of nervousness to her attitude that worried Maleficent.

"I hope what you're about to show me is good, Aurora," she said softly. "I'm not sure I like your reaction, and really, how much more chaos can we take?"

"Why, I thought you _liked_ chaos," Aurora said teasingly, and then she opened the door and stepped back, waving Maleficent forward.

She entered the shadowy room with caution. It seemed that the castle servants hadn't quite made it this far. There was a strong, mildewy smell, like something had festered in the dark corners for too long. Heavy velvet drapes were drawn across the windows, blocking out the sunlight and sprawling landscape below. Silence lay like a blanket over the room, as did a fine layer (or three) of dust. The only spot that looked lived-in was a short, narrow path that led to the middle of the room, where a thick wooden chair sat, cushion-less and uninviting. Maleficent walked toward it slowly, balancing carefully on the balls of her feet for fear that something should dart out of the darkness.

A soft tap-tapping sounded behind her as Aurora crossed the room to stand before the obscured windows.

"This is Stefan's solar room," Maleficent said quietly. It was not a question.

"Yes, and before you-–"

"Why have you brought me here?" Her voice rose up at the end, not quite shrilly but close enough to alarm that Aurora sensed she was on the brink of either panic or explosive anger.

 _This place stinks of his presence,_ Maleficent thought angrily. Her hands trembled at her sides, and she folded them into tight fists. _This is where he did most of his scheming, _she guessed. _Where he planned to slaughter innocent commonfolk and burn down my home. This room reeks of madness.___

__Aurora didn't answer--she feared that any more talking would drive Maleficent away before she could explain what was waiting for her, and what had _been_ waiting for her since the awful day Stefan deceived her._ _

__Wordlessly, she parted the velvet curtains._ _

__Sunlight did not pour into the room like dammed water down a dry riverbed--no, it burst past the curtains and exploded across the dull cement, highlighting the damp corners and uneven bricks that made up the walls. Maleficent flinched back, surprised. She could see the room in great, hideous detail now. The room was unpleasant as ever, but as Maleficent turned accusingly toward Aurora, she caught a glimmering flash out of the corner of her eye._ _

__The sunlight was shining through a magnificent glass armoire situated in the middle of the dead king's solar. It reached nearly nine feet tall and was outlined in thin lines of impervious black steel. Otherwise, the armoire was entirely translucent, enough so that anyone could see what lay within._ _

__Maleficent's breath caught in her throat, and she reached out a hand for the wooden chair, feeling faint._ _

__Heavy black wings beat senselessly, tiredly, against the glass. Although the feathers drooped with what was unmistakably hopelessness, the inky black color was still vibrant, and the arrangement of the feathers was still flawless, beautiful in its organized chaos. They looked healthy, brand-new, despite the air of helpless despair that exuded from them._ _

__"My wings," the fairy queen whispered. "My treasures."_ _

__At once, the wings stilled and appeared to straighten up. Then, without warning, they attacked the glass in a startling fervor, as if sensing that their mistress was nearby. The armoire creaked with the sudden assault from within, but it didn't tip over, and the glass didn't crack._ _

__Maleficent, wide-eyed and hardly daring to believe, looked over at Aurora. The new queen had a huge grin on her lips, and she felt sure, finally, that this had been the right thing to do. _How silly I was,_ Aurora admonished herself, _to think, even for a second, that she had moved past the need for her wings. This is all she has ever truly desired.__ _

__She tilted her head towards the armoire. "Unlock it, and set them free," she implored softly._ _

__Maleficent jerked, as if electrocuted. "Are you…you're sure?" She had never in a million years thought that she would get to see her wings again, but to see them _fly_? To feel them on her back once again, in the one place they were destined to be? The notion was unthinkable._ _

__But she stepped forward all the same, hand outstretched, heart pumping wildly._ _

___This is a dream, a fantasy,_ she thought hazily. _Your yearning to see them again, to feel them, has driven you to hallucinate. This is a vision altered into reality.__ _

__Yet it didn't feel that way, not at all. In fact, Maleficent's senses were exploding with sensory input. She could feel the fine layer of dust settling on her skin as she disturbed it. She could taste the stale, mildew flavor of the room. But above all else, she could hear the tap-tapping of her wings as they beat against the glass in an ever-increasing frenzy to reach her. These images, these sound perceptions, were so alive, so present, that Maleficent couldn't accept that this was anything but reality. This was happening. This was real._ _

__Her wings were waiting for her._ _

__In one uncharacteristically jerky motion, Maleficent wrenched the lock sealing closed the armoire and flung it across the room. It hit the floor and disappeared in a flash of green smoke. Aurora raised a single eyebrow, but Maleficent wasn't paying one iota of attention to anything but what was in front of her. She yanked open the glass door, wanting--no, _needing_ -–to touch those inky feathers, to reassure herself that they were really here and not dissolved into so much dust. Her hand darted into the armoire, and-–_ _

__The air trembled with the beat-beat-beating of her wings as they surged from their long confinement and soared over their mistress's head. Maleficent ducked and watched, awestruck, as her wings sailed around the room in great, looping arcs, stretching and preening for the first time in many, many years. They tried to expand to their full length, but the room wasn't large enough to hold them. They needed to be in open skies, unhindered by man-made boundaries, but first-–_ _

__They dove at Maleficent, striking like a single flash of lightning. Her back arched in a combination of surprise and pain and the sheer force of the assault. A garbled groan scraped up her throat, and she thrust her arms out to her sides, knowing that even she, the great Fairy Queen of the Moors, couldn't encompass or contain all that these magnificent wings were doing to her. They were the most magical thing about her, the most magical thing anyone had ever seen. They exuded raw power and pure freedom._ _

__To Maleficent, they were life._ _

__Whorls of green energy swirled throughout the room, sweeping aside the dust and mold which caked the stone walls. The air, formerly dank and seemingly scentless, suddenly became perfumed with the smell of fresh flowers and clean breezes. All of Maleficent's senses came alive as her wings pulled her several inches off the floor; she could rise no further, for the solar was tiny by the castle's standards. Sunlight shone on her pale skin, illuminating her emerald eyes; they twinkled brilliantly with an invigorated spark not seen for many decades._ _

__Aurora's eyes crinkled at the corners as her smile devoured her face. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, too--but for once, they were happy tears. To see her mentor, her godmother, this beautiful fairy, restored to her true self, was a sight she never thought to see in her lifetime. She'd been worrying about Maleficent's future for the longest time; she'd really never thought her godmother would ever find true happiness, not after the horrors she'd been through and the pit of darkness her soul had become._ _

__But two things had changed all that. The first was Diaval, who had finally acted upon his feelings. He had kept pursuing her, ever so relentlessly, and Aurora, even in her innocence, could see that Maleficent was slowly being worn down by his advances. The second thing was when Aurora had accidentally stumbled upon the former king's solar room. At first she'd thought only of having it boarded up; she'd smelled madness there just as surely as Maleficent had upon first walking into the room. But those plans were in her mind before she'd parted the heavy velvet curtains and revealed Maleficent's salvation._ _

__"This-–" Her godmother's voice cut out, and Aurora focused back on the moment, tossing aside these thoughts once and for all. "This," Maleficent tried again, "was once the only thing in life I desired. To find my wings. To get revenge on Stefan. To rise as a true fairy again." She swallowed, and her wings beat the air in a slower rhythm, gently setting her on her feet. They folded against her back with a few quick snaps._ _

__"But now," she continued, extending her arms. Aurora stepped forward and grasped her hands tightly. "Now I see there's a lot more to desire in life."_ _

___She means me,_ Aurora thought faintly. She had only known her father and mother for a few hours, and her doddering old fairy protectors hadn't proven to be especially maternal, either, so she'd never experienced parental disapproval or pride or love. With Maleficent, she'd felt all these and more. _ _

__For the first time in her life, Aurora knew she would be cared for. She was the governing queen of an entire kingdom, sure, but she still needed love and support. She wouldn't have to look any further--the answer to her loneliness stood before her, glorious and strong._ _

__"I have _you_ , my beastie," Maleficent said softly. "A true queen, and a noble, beautiful, blossoming young woman."_ _

__Aurora nodded, too choked up to reply. She knew how much her godmother disdained of tears and sentimental displays of emotion, and she didn't want to ruin this moment by weeping uncontrollably. Still, it was a close call._ _

__"I have Diaval now, too," Maleficent added, her eyes going hazy as she thought of the pale raven-haired man waiting patiently several floors below for them to return. "Diaval," she repeated, in such a tone that Aurora found herself turning pink._ _

__"We're both here for you," the queen replied, a smile highlighting her lips. "No matter what. And I hope you'll be here for us, too…." Aurora trailed off, giving Maleficent a meaningful glance. She wanted her godmother here by her side, in the human kingdom. Maybe not all of the time, for she knew how important the Moors was to the fairy, but maybe….maybe…_ _

__Maleficent smiled. "I have an even better idea."_ _

__And indeed she did. One title, three words: The United Realms._ _

__Hand-in-hand, the two queens floated from the room in a cloud of newfound happiness and endless possibility._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Only the epilogue left to post! Probably sometime tomorrow :)**


	15. Epilogue: Peacetime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **What's a fairytale without its happy ending?**
> 
> **_Tabara_ means _prosperity._**

Where the lands merged at the border, a giant stage crafted of grass and tree bark sat in simple splendor.

On one side, the newly named Kingdom of Tabara sprawled in a wave of rolling green lawns, blooming flower gardens, and bright blue skies. The dirt roads were no more; instead, every path leading in and out of the city was paved in solid iron. Thanks to the melting down of all the iron weapons within a hundred miles of the kingdom, there was plenty of metal to put to use. Fairies and woodland creatures rarely walked, so this would be no burden to them.

The small towns that dotted the countryside were free of trash and debris, and the brick facades shone cleanly in the early afternoon sunlight. The Tabaran castle, sitting in the center of it all, was dank and dingy no longer. The entire structure exuded an air of hospitality and renewal. 

After all these long years, the Kingdom of Tabara was getting better, day by day.

On the other side, the Moorlands lay only minimally changed. The dark forest was still gloomy and ominous, and it still fended off those who dared try to chop down its trees or steal its healing potions. Symphony Stream, and all the other bodies of waters, streams and riverbeds and lakes, sparkled from a bird's eyeview. However, beneath the sapphire blue waters swam twisted creatures waiting for an unsuspecting snack. 

Flowers bloomed, harmless and poisonous ones alike. The tall trees, stretching nearly a hundred feet high in some regions, swayed dangerously, always on the edge of toppling but never quite tilting far enough for the possibility to become real. The air was alive with the sounds of fairies and woodland creatures flitting to and fro; they soared over the meadowlands, darted from side-to-side within the gloom of the forests, and drifted lazily on upwind currents. The Moors was changed, yes, but in much subtler ways than Tabara. Some of the darkness that Maleficent brought to the land all those many years ago still lingered. But the Moors seemed to embrace it now.

On the border between the lands, there was one monumental difference: the Wall of Thorns had vanished.

Maleficent had been the one to take it down, and rightly so--she had been the one to erect it in the first place, as a way to protect the Moors from impending doom. Now the border ceased to exist, and in a few moments, Maleficent thought, there would never be a chance of resurrecting it.

Her green eyes flashed sideways, and when she spotted Aurora, she smiled. The Queen was standing perfectly still, transfixed into immobility--her anxiety was nearly palpable from this distance. She wore a plain white gown, adorned sparingly with glistening pearls around the neckline and cuffs of her sleeves. Her hair flowed freely down to her waist, nearly white-blonde in the light of the noon sun. Hands clasped before her, Aurora stared straight ahead, her chin held high. She was nervous, but she was ready.

Maleficent, on the right wing of the stage, breathed deeply. This moment was a long time coming, and although it was obviously nerve-wracking, she felt that it was the right time to do this. She did not sense any ill feelings from the assembled crowd. Interspersed among the commonfolk and nobility were tiny wood-sprites, as well as fairies and crimson-haired nymphs. However, most of the Moors creatures watched from afar. Maleficent knew that the segregation of the humans and her own people had gone on for far too long; it would take time for them to grow comfortable around one another again.

Fortunately, time was a commodity they could finally afford.

By her side, Diaval straightened and squeezed her hand. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, taking in his ruffled black shirt and dress pants. His scars were no longer livid, for they were no longer there. But she found herself gazing at where they'd been with some sadness, strangely enough. She'd always found them pleasing--dare she say _handsome?_ –-and now that they were gone, she realized she might miss that particular distinguishing feature.

But now, she had to admit, he was more handsome than ever.

Diaval was an inch or two taller than her, which wasn't surprising, of course, but Maleficent looked away before a blush could overcome her features. This reaction was new. Whenever he looked down on her with that smoldering gaze of his, she could barely concentrate on anything or anyone until something was done to relieve the tension in her chest.

He was hers, and she was his, and that was that. To be separated now was inconceivable. Only together were they truly alive. 

Maleficent yanked her mind away from her beloved and refocused on the scene unfolding before her. The ceremony was about to begin, and she didn't want to miss a moment of it.

Her back arched just the slightest bit as her wings readjusted themselves. They were folded neatly against her skin, but it would take less than a second for them to spring into the air. She was waiting for the right moment to reveal them, knowing it would be very soon.

Just as soon as Aurora was officially crowned.

The crowd quieted, the senior clergyman in charge of the ceremony cleared his throat, and Aurora straightened, readying herself.

"On this day," the cleric began in a booming baritone, "we celebrate the joining of two foreign lands. To the left lies the Kingdom of Tabara, the land of prosperity. To the right lies the Moors, the land of magic and fae. Many a year have these two realms been rife with war and instability, but those struggles are behind us now. The human-folk and Moorland creatures will come together for the first time in all of history. With the royal ascension of Aurora of Tabara, these lands will become one."

Maleficent sucked in a deep breath. She felt Diaval's hand tense in her own.

"Aurora of Tabara," the cleric said, and Aurora stepped forward. He held a shimmering gold crown above her head; sapphires and rubies and rainbow jewels found only in the Moors were set into the points that spiraled from the base. "Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of the Kingdom of Tabara and the Realm of the Moors, according to their respective laws and customs?"

"I solemnly promise to do so," Aurora said steadily, her gaze sliding over the assembled crowd.

"Will you to your power cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?"

"I will." Aurora's voice rang proudly across the rolling green landscape.

"Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the laws of these realms and the true profession of your people? Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the justice established by law?"

"All this I promise to do. The things which I have here before promised, I will perform, and keep."

"Then I, Greglin of the Clergy, will be faithful and true, and faith and truth will bear unto you, our Sovereign Lady, Queen of the United Realms, and unto your heirs and successors according to law. I pronounce you Queen Aurora!"

And with that, he lowered the crown onto her head, and two realms became united.

The crowd burst into loud cheers that echoed over the lands. There was crying and hugging and hesitant introductions between the humans and the woodland creatures. Maleficent caught Aurora's gaze and nodded imperceptibly. Her little beastie was queen now, and she knew Aurora wouldn't need anyone's approval from here on out. 

As she stared at the mingling crowd, Maleficent's wings unfurled. They snapped from her back in several quick movements, and the crowd, momentarily distracted, gasped as one. The black wing-tips gleamed like wet ink in the sun, and the breeze ruffled her feathers, moving up and down their length in an undulating wave.

Diaval's hand came up and touched her cheek. She turned to him and smiled, finally at peace. His lips brushed her forehead, and he murmured, "And so our journey ends, at long last."

But Maleficent smirked and cocked her head back. "My dear, don't be foolish. Our journey is only just beginning." Her eyes strayed to Aurora, who had stepped forward to greet her people, high and lowborn, human and magical.

"At long last," she whispered as Diaval's arms wound around her in a tight embrace. Unity. Belonging. Happiness. All within her reach.

Maleficent laughed.

And all was finally at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and/or commented! I appreciate it so much :)**
> 
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